It's All Relative
by Tracie1
Summary: Riley's father dies and Riley is sucked back into a life that he would rather forget. Then, a discovery makes him question all that he has known. In-progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Nota Bene:**

This story has been kicking around since August, 2005, mostly in notes. However, I am rewriting most of this as my original timeline did not accommodate _Book of Secrets_. Also, I am less than thrilled about how cringe worthy my original notes look in the cold light of day. My challenge will be to write this in a manner in which I'm not treading on the toes of those who have already posted Riley-had-a-poor-life-before-meeting-Ben-and-finding-the-treasure stories.

This chapter is mostly a feeler, to see what interest is out there. The rest of the plot has not been definitively drafted out at this point. I am only working from a vague idea. It's possible that this could become quite contrived before I'm through. Worse case scenario is that it will become a crack addled work of insanity. At least it will be Riley-centric, crack addled insanity.

**Obligatory Disclaimers:**

1) I do not own the National Treasure characters. Sigh. I wouldn't mind owning a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed actor, but IMDB says he's already spoken for. Double damn! (Because one damn just won't do. )

2) I do not own any song lyrics that will preface this and the subsequent chapters. The artists will be credited accordingly, I promise.

3) I do my best to go over things (no beta), but errors never make themselves known to me until _after_ I post my stories to the Internet. It's a constant that I have grown used to over the last eight years.

4) It has been a long time since I have written a long story one chapter at a time and posted as such, so bear with me. As my job and other obligations (like marketing my book) will certainly take priority, I cannot guarantee frequent updating. I wish I could take all the time in the world, but calling in to tell my boss, "Sorry, I can't come in, because my fan fiction needs attention," will not score me any points.

I guess that's all I can summon from my sleep deprived brain at this point. Let the storytelling commence! (*Bites lip and whimpers nervously before exposing said crack addled insanity to the poor, unsuspecting public.*)

**Chapter One**

"_Well, I'm not crazy. I'm just a little unwell. I know right now you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me."_

_-Matchbox 20_

Riley sat on his futon, in shock, mindlessly folding, unfolding and twisting a piece of paper in his hands. The content of the letter was still trying to sink in, the vessels of words trying to penetrate the mental wall it took him a lifetime to build.

It had happened three and a half months ago. That was how long it had taken for his father's lawyer to track him down. The letter was formal, stiff, cold. It might have been a grocery list for all the warmth it contained.

Dear, Mr. Ryerson P. Landley III:

It is my obligation to inform you that your father died in a car accident on October 16th of year last. In his will, you are listed as his sole heir. Your father's estate includes his entire fortune, the family home in Connecticut and the vacation home on Martha's Vineyard.

There will be an official reading of his will at my office on January 25th at 9 a.m., at which point you will be the legal owner of all remaining assets, minus fees for my services and the private investigator that your father contracted. Your presence is requested to sign the required documents in front of witnesses.

You can contact me at 555-523-4978, should you have any questions.

Regards,

Oliver Statten

Attorney at Law

Riley crumpled the letter into a ball one final time and threw it across his living room. He buried his head in his hands. Why did he have to be found? Why did the lawyer have to condescend to use his former name? Why did his father have to be so cruel as to leave him all that he had run away from? Why did the bastard have to hire a private investigator to track Riley down? His father hadn't wanted Riley when he was alive. Why were things different now that the old man was dead?

"The asshole must be laughing from his grave," Riley muttered. A part of him wanted to cry, but not to grieve over his father. He mourned the fact that all this had been exposed to the cold light of day, despite his efforts to keep himself hidden. Why couldn't his past stay buried like his emotions? His tears stubbornly refused to come to the surface. Riley could only utter an aggrieved moan.

His cell phone rang, jolting Riley from his thoughts. How did the world know when he didn't want to talk to anybody and why did it always pick that time to call? Sighing in frustration, he grabbed the phone and pressed the "Talk" button.

"Hello," he said, his voice sounding as flat as he felt.

"Riley, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Ben sounded slightly frantic.

"I'm fine," Riley lied. "Why? What's up?"

"You're two hours late."

"Late?" Riley pondered. What was he late for? Then, it hit him like a cold wash of ice water. He was supposed to Ben and Abigail's home for dinner. Ben's parents were invited as well. A quick glance at his digital clock told him it was 9:30 p.m.

"Shit! Ben, I'm sorry. I guess I forgot. I've been sort of preoccupied."

"You forgot?" Ben asked incredulously. "We all thought something had happened to you. It's not like you not to call. You had us all worried."

"Look, Ben, I said I was sorry. I got involved working on something."

"And you couldn't let us know that you wouldn't make it?" Ben's voice had developed a distinct edge and Riley bit his lip.

He didn't need the attitude right now. Lord knew how he didn't need it. Riley wanted desperately to tell him what was going on and how he really wasn't fine, but that story would dredge up a lot of pain, not to mention, a hopelessly entangled web of lies. Better to have them miffed at him for a dinner than eternally angry at him for years of deceit. Better to lose the battle than lose the war and the only friends he had.

"No," Riley said softly. "I guess I just lost track of the time." Ugh. How lame was that excuse? He braced himself for Ben's inevitable lecture, but none came. Instead, Ben emitted an exasperated sigh.

"Ben? It was just a dinner. There will be others. I really just forgot. I didn't do it to offend you." At least that part was true if nothing else.

"If you will excuse me, Poole," Ben said edgily, "I have to do some damage control with Abigail. I don't think she will be very understanding as she overcooked the turkey waiting for you to show up." With that, Ben hung up.

Riley pushed the "Talk" button and let the phone drop to his side on the futon's soft cushion. He couldn't blame Ben for being angry at him since he now had to go to bat with Abigail on his behalf. Riley grimaced as he envisioned Abigail's likely reaction to the news. It wouldn't be a pretty sight. She would be pissed on a nuclear level and rightly so. Boy, Riley owed his friend a huge apology and an even bigger favor when he got this sorry mess resolved.

Right now, the matter at hand took precedent. He woke his laptop up from its deep sleep and brought up the website for Bradley International Airport. He had four days to get back to Connecticut and the prison of a life he had left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Nota Bene Version 2.1:**

Thank you to all of you kind souls who have reviewed thus far. I guess your enthusiastic response means I'd better keep on this thing, lest I find rabid Riley fans descending on my doorstep with torches in hand. Ha, ha! (Y'all know I'm just kidding. Right?)

I apologize for the time it has taken for me to write and post this. No, I hadn't forgotten about it, nor have I been ignoring your pleas to update this thing. On the contrary, I have spent quite a few breaks at work with my trusty notebook and pen, trying to plot a general idea of how this story should play out. I have not drafted a true outline to this tale, but I have determined that it is going to meander quite a bit. This could be quite long when it's finished, certainly longer than any fan fiction I have posted previously.

As I always do with fan fiction, I ask myself the eternal question. How far can this thing go? A.k.a., what will the fandom let me get away with? Apparently, I can get away with a lot in this fandom if other works are any indication and that could be very, very bad. For Riley.

**Holy Disclaimer Time, Batman!**

1) I do not own the NT characters, just the OCs. The OC in this chapter is about as stereotypical as you can get. I have done this on purpose, so take it with a grain of salt.

2) Windsor Locks, CT and its airport and airport rental car facility are real. The suburb where Riley grew up is completely fictional.

Now, on to the story!

**Chapter Two**

"_I know he'd never let me leave. I had to run away alone. So many threats and fears, so many wasted years before my life became my own. And though the nightmare should be over, some of the terrors are still intact. I'll hear that ugly, coarse and violent voice, and then he grabs me from behind and pulls me back!"_

_- Meatloaf_

The sun had started to set when Riley's plane touched down in Windsor Locks. As the wheels touched down on the tarmac, he felt a surge of dread wash over him and, immediately, he kicked himself for feeling that way. His father was gone. Nothing could happen to him now. He didn't have to face the cold look, the unfeeling voice and the general air that he was never wanted. Still, what Riley wouldn't have given for a hit of Pepto to sooth his nervous, knotted and aching stomach.

After getting off the plane and retrieving his luggage, he headed over to Hertz to rent a car for his stay. Missing his Ferrari, he chose a cherry red Mustang convertible. At least he could feel like he was driving his car, even if the January weather wouldn't let him put the top down.

It seemed like the thirty minute drive to Oak Hollow ended too soon. As he pulled into the semi-circular driveway he glanced up at the imposing brick Italianate that had been a prison to him for his entire youth.

While he was without moral support, he wouldn't be alone in the house. Upon calling his father's lawyer, Riley had learned that his father had appointed their old butler, Burton, to act as caretaker of the premises and had given the elderly man a generous stipend for such shortly before his death. The butler had been appointed to oversee the property until Riley could be found and the property officially signed over to him.

As it turned out, his father had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. If the car crash hadn't killed him, the disease would surely have done the job. Riley couldn't help but feel that the old man had gotten off rather easy. A less charitable part of him wished his father could have experienced some suffering before he passed. Maybe then, Riley could have had some justice for the way he had been treated for two-thirds of his life. As soon as the thought had flashed through his brain, his conscience berated him for the evil thought, but Riley didn't care. He certainly wasn't going to made to feel guilty, because he couldn't bring himself to forgive someone who had always hated him.

Just because his father didn't hit him excessively, it didn't mean that Riley wasn't abused. Words could hurt as much, if not more and his father had always had an arsenal of hate and loathing lying in wait to strike him down. He never acknowledged Riley's birthday and made it a point to be conspicuously absent then and for every Christmas. Ryerson Pellanor Landley II: Came from old money, renowned antique collector and dealer, as well as esteemed philanthropist. However, he never qualified for father of the year.

At least his mother had been different. Anyway, he thought she had been different. He only had one memory of her, from when he was about two and the family had vacationed at the summer cottage in the Vineyard. Riley swallowed thickly as he tried to push the memory from his mind. The fuzzy image of the blonde-haired woman smiling on the sandy beach brought up a terrifying nightmare that he never wanted to think of again.

Riley opened his door, to a face full of fat snow flurries and a gust of New England January chill. He grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk and tread carefully through the thin, greasy layer of freshly fallen snow to the door. Maybe his Converse hadn't been the wisest footwear choice.

He walked up to the front door, drawing a long, shaky breath. "Abandon all hope ye who enter here," he muttered bitterly. With an equally shaky hand, he grabbed the door knocker and hit it firmly against the door. As the sound echoed into the foyer, Riley wished he was back on the rickety elevator below Trinity Church or the seesaw platform from Hell in Cibola. Anywhere, but here.

At first, there was no indication that Riley had even been heard. The door eased open a crack and an elderly man peered out. Once the man recognized who he was looking at, he opened the door wider, but his emotionless, unwelcoming expression didn't falter. "Master Ryerson, I see you have arrived."

Riley swallowed thickly, the knot in his stomach tightening. It felt just like old times and Riley almost forgot he was a grown man. "Hello, Burton," he said unenthusiastically as the older man stepped aside to let him in. Riley stepped into the foyer and Burton closed the door gently behind him.

"I have prepared your room, sir. I trust you remember where it is," Burton said in his customary monotone voice. "Dinner will be served promptly at seven," Burton continued. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

"Uh, no, Burton. Thanks," Riley mumbled as he looked around. Burton nodded and left the foyer, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

Riley walked up to his old room on the second floor. He opened the door and quickly scanned the large room. There was his old bed, desk and bureau, but the room was devoid of any personal sign that Riley had ever lived there.

He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. Why was he putting himself through this? He had escaped this place to carve a life that wasn't dictated by his father's prestige or money and he didn't owe the old man a damned thing. However, as a puppy that had been conditioned to believe that he deserved his beatings and, therefore, had long ago been conditioned to obey when his father summoned him. Now, his father still kept him under his powerful thumb, even from beyond the grave.

"Who says ghosts aren't real?" Riley muttered.

He thought of calling Ben, if only to hear a friendly voice. That is, if Ben had forgiven him yet and that would depend on the severity of the tongue lashing he had received from Abigail. No one had tried to call Riley before he left Washington D.C. and he had turned his phone off on the plane. He lifted his head from his hands and reached into his pocket for his flip phone. He turned it on and scanned for messages, frowning when he couldn't find a signal. Curious, he unearthed his laptop from his carry-on bag and turned it on, hoping, maybe, to piggyback an unsuspecting soul's WI-FI signal. Again, nothing.

"Even technology is afraid to come in here," he said to the empty room as he closed his laptop and placed it next to him on the bed. He resolved to hit up a coffee shop the next day. He couldn't bear the thought of being cooped up in that house for two whole days with nothing to occupy his mind. Hell, he couldn't even fathom being there for two more minutes with nothing to do.

Not one to sit still very long if a computer wasn't on, Riley decided to reacquaint himself with his childhood home. He had planned to sell the property once the ownership had officially been transferred and this would be an excellent opportunity to assess precisely what he would be putting on the market.

Riley made his way down the grand staircase to his father's old study. The quiet in the house was unnerving. Riley half expected the balding, hulking form of his father to jump out of the shadows at any moment and scare ten years off his life.

"Ryerson!"

Riley jumped, his breath coming out in shallow pants. The ethereal sound seemed to come from within the walls. Or, maybe it was his memory playing tricks on him. He approached the heavy, oak door of the study and placed a still shaky hand on the doorknob. He slowly opened the door and flipped the light switch.

The room was exactly as he remembered it. The brown leather couch, antique, oak desk and oversized brown leather desk chair were all in their usual places. The built-in bookshelves still housed his father's massive collection of volumes. His father's presence was everywhere and in everything in that room, but there was nothing tangible.

Still, the room brought the old feelings flooding back. Memories of having no one in his life save for those who wanted him for his computer expertise or his family's money. Though, at least it had been marginally better than not being wanted at all. Like a tidal wave slamming into shore, everything his father spouted to him out of loathing for each infraction that Riley had ever incurred, no matter how minor, infiltrated his psyche. Unfortunately, there were a lot of repeats in those hateful utterances.

_"God should have taken you when you were born!"_

_"Your mother killed herself, because of you!"_

_"You are my cross to bear!"_

_"I don't want to see you or to know you!"_

_"You are a slur on everything I have ever accomplished in my life!"_

_"How dare you disgrace me by being expelled from Dartmouth! If it weren't for the family name I would gladly let you fester in jail. You are a despicable criminal and a sorry excuse for an heir." _

The walls seemed to close in on him and he found it hard to breathe. He just had to get out of that room. He rushed out of the room and returned to the foyer. He sat on the bottom stair; his eyes squeezed shut, trying to control his breathing and shaking.

Two days. He just had to make it until Monday. After the will had been read and the papers signed, he could get rid of everything his family's name had stained. He could hop a plane back to Washington D.C. and return to his regularly scheduled life as Riley Poole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Nota Bene, Part III:**

Thank y'all, again, for the kind words and encouragement to keep penning this story. Just knowing that people want to read it means a lot to me.

I'm sorry that this has been a long time coming, but this chapter has undergone three distinct rewrites and, twice, the rewrites made it to a final editing before I deleted the whole thing. The original draft ended up being spliced into two chapters, because it was way too long. This chapter was just really difficult to write and, I swear, I got gray hair from it. Finally, I came up with the following and I hope it passes muster with you kind people.

And now for something completely different! It's Happy Disclaimer Time!

I only claim creative license pertaining to my OCs. Disney owns the canon characters.

Okay, okay, I'm done. I won't make you wait any longer, so drop the pitchforks!

**Chapter Three**

"_Well, there's blood in these veins and I cry when in pain. I'm only human on the inside. And if only looks can deceive, make it hard to believe, I'm only human on the inside."_

_-Pretenders_

_...Riley ran along the edge of the beach, laughing, as he picked up shells and threw them with a tiny fist into the blue water. His mother sat nearby, watching him, and laughing, as well. The diminutive white-capped waves lapped against the shore, making small splashing sounds. _

_The intermittent splashes morphed into a steady flow, like a running faucet. The image of the beach slowly dissolved around him taking on the appearance of a small room. Off-white walls replaced the horizon and pine floorboards materialized from sand. A clawfoot bathtub materialized providing the source of the watery sound._

_He approached the tub and saw his mother's bluish-white face mostly submerged in water. Glassy eyes peeked above the water, staring vacantly upward. Water seeped over the sides of the tub, collecting in a huge pool on the wood floor…_

Riley lay in a cold sweat, shaking and gripping the edge of his blanket with two white-knuckled fists. A look at his digital clock told him it was nearly three a.m.

He stared upward toward his ceiling as cramp after cramp knotted his stomach. Riley blamed a volatile combination of nerves, the spicy dish that Burton had served for dinner and the horrible nightmare he'd just had for finally putting an end to his futile attempt at sleep.

Another, more vicious cramp sliced its way through Riley's gut and he threw off his blanket and ran to the bathroom, his hand over his mouth. After expelling the last of his dinner, he sat against the bathroom wall, willing his stomach to calm down. He had felt increasingly ill over the course of the evening. With a turbulent digestive system and nothing to keep his mind occupied, he had opted to turn in early. His reward had been a night of disturbing dreams and repeated trips to the bathroom.

The events of the seemingly real nightmare continued their constant replay in his head. He shook from terror and sickness as he recalled his mother's vacant, dead eyes. His chronological age might have been 30.5 years, but the dreams made him feel like a small, terrified child all over again.

He had only been two years old when his mother died, at least, that was he had been told. It had been shortly after the family vacation to the Vineyard. He had been too young to remember much of his mother and his father never talked about her, except to throw her death in Riley's face. He certainly never kept mementos of her in sight.

One time, when he was about six, Riley summoned up the urge to ask his father for a picture of his mother. The request earned him bruised cheek. It was rare for his father to hit him as visible marks might sully his reputation. However, that slap convinced Riley that his mother was a subject that was, indeed, off limits. He never asked about her again, but he never stopped wondering about her. Sure, when he was older, he looked up computerized records of her birth and such, but statistical data couldn't give him a true glimpse into his mother's soul.

He could rectify that now, he realized. He knew that there had to be something in this house of hers and he knew where to find it. Any pictures and documents pertaining to her would be in his father's desk. That had always been a place where the old man had kept everything that he wished to remain private and, as such, it was common knowledge that it be kept that way. If his father hadn't been dead, Riley would never even entertain the notion of rifling through the desk, let alone, act on it.

Slowly, on still shaky legs, he stood up. He had to hold onto the wall for a moment until he was sure that his legs would support him. He made his way down to the first floor study. He had just reached the closed door when he heard the voice.

"Ryerson!"

Riley's eyes darted around frantically as he searched for the source of the noise. It seemed to encircle him. But, he saw nothing that could explain the sound. For the second time since arriving at the house, he expected his father to emerge from nowhere and berate him.

Suddenly, Riley felt incredibly stupid. He was a grown man and should no longer be intimidated by the old man's memory. He groped the wall for the light switch and flipped it on and flooding the room with light.

Another wave of stomach cramps swept over him as he ambled over to the antique desk. He sat in the huge leather swivel chair and leaned his head back against the upholstery, grimacing until the pain passed. The cramps were becoming more frequent, though his empty stomach should have been a sign of abatement. He pushed the worrying thought to the back of his mind. He didn't have the mental strength to dwell on it, now.

Another memory pushed its way to the surface. He had sat in his father's chair only once before. He had been about four years old, if he remembered correctly. He had spun around and around until he made himself dizzy. He was having such fun, until his father caught him. For punishment, he had been locked in the utility closet, his father having filled Riley's young head with horrific visions of monsters coming out of the darkness to rip away at his flesh. The old man had made him stay there for the whole night, going so far as to have Burton take out the light bulb, so that Riley couldn't even turn on the light. Terrified, he had cowered in a corner and sobbed. Riley had begged for someone, an angel, to come save him. He thought his mother had to have been an angel. But, no one came.

It was at that point that Riley had learned a bitter life lesson. He would always have to fight his battles alone. Obviously, he wasn't worthy of saviors.

Riley sighed as he sat up. He had come down to this awful room for a reason and the sooner he accomplished it, the sooner he could leave. He opened each desk drawer and sorted through the legal papers and sundry office items that lay within them. Nothing he found looked like it pertained to his mother. Then, he tried the sixth and last drawer, only to find it locked.

Riley frowned as he looked up at the desk's surface, hoping to see a key. There wasn't one, but he spied his father's letter opener sticking out of the pen holder. Riley wouldn't call himself an expert lock picker, but he would try anything once. He grabbed the opener and tried to fit it into the opening. It fit, barely. Lacking a better plan, he jiggled the opener in the lock and hoped he didn't break one or both of them. He was more than a little surprised when he actually heard a click. He opened the drawer and found a manila envelope with his name written in familiar handwriting lying on top.

Riley took the envelope out and opened it, pulling out a photograph and two pieces of paper. The photo was old, yellowed. It showed a dark-haired woman smiling for the camera. The ocean was in the background. Riley turned it over. Marjorie, Cape Cod, Summer, 1977.

Then he read the first, smaller piece of paper. It was a birth certificate for a James Paulson Greenburg, born July 21, 1978. Born to Marjorie Greenburg. The father had been listed as Ryerson Pellanor Landley.

Riley's blood ran cold. That was his birthday. That was his father, but that wasn't the mother he remembered. He drew in a long, shuddery breath as he, again, sat back in the chair. He picked up the photo and studied it more closely. The young woman had long, feathery dark hair, almost black. She wore glasses and, despite the yellowing, Riley swore that blue eyes peered out from behind the frames. She was thin and short in stature, if the bench she was leaning against was any indication.

The room reeled as a realization began to sink in, but Riley didn't want to bring himself to believe it. He picked up the second piece of paper. It read:

"_To my son,_

_Upon learning of my illness, I decided it was time to atone for my past. I cannot meet my maker with the sins of my life hanging over my head. _

_I am sorry that I treated you as I did. I know that words cannot take back the years of animosity between us and the hurt I inflicted on you. I don't expect your forgiveness, but I need to clear my conscience. Maybe, if circumstances had been different, I could have loved you like a son. I cannot take back what I did to you, but I want you to know I truly am sorry."_

Riley snorted in contempt. He knew if his father had never been diagnosed with a terminal illness, this letter would never have been written. The selfish, old bastard didn't care about what he had done to him! He just wanted to die with an unfettered sense of self. Riley continued reading, if only to see what other self-serving bullshit his father had penned.

"_It is time for you to know the truth about who you are. Barbara, my late wife, was not your mother. Your mother was one of my affairs. I met her on Cape Cod and our time together was brief, indeed. I do not know where she came from or where her family is. However, I have no doubt that you will be able to uncover this information, should you wish to do so._

_Your mother loved you very much. She…"_

Riley turned the paper over, but the other side was blank. The letter just ended there. But, what? It was bad enough that the letter was a glossed over pile of shit. The least the old man could have done was finish it, instead of shoving it into a drawer.

Why had his name been changed and a new birth certificate issued? Had his mother decided she didn't want him and let his father adopt him, formally? It would not be outside the realm of possibility for his father to create a new identity for Riley to hide the fact that he had been the product of an affair.

But his mother had supposedly loved him. Mothers don't just hand over children that they love. A more sickening thought occurred to him. Maybe his father had paid off his real mother to hand Riley over to him. That kind of scheme would certainly be up the old man's alley, though it made Riley's stomach churn fiercer to think he could have been traded like a commodity.

"I must protect my heritage at all costs, Ryerson," his father had said more than once.

Why had he been so insistent that Riley know all of this now? Did the old man somehow suspect that Riley was finally enjoying some semblance of normalcy in his life? In some sick way, did the old man wish to throw his world off its axis?

Riley folded his arms on the desk and buried his head in them. He felt a lone tear fall from his eye, but he didn't bother wiping it away. Another tear followed and another. He just let them fall. He felt like his life had been one big lie. At least, he knew now why he had been so resented his whole life. However, that knowledge didn't make it any easier to swallow.

One thing was for certain. He had to find to find this woman. He had to know why she had disappeared from his life. He wondered how different it all could have been, if she had raised him, instead of his father. Maybe, he would have been raised to trust people more and let them in, instead of building up a wall to keep everyone out. Money couldn't teach one how to let people in, even those he cared about most.

With a shuddery sigh, he lifted his head from his arms and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Sick or no, he resolved he would start his search first thing in the morning. His identity was at stake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Nota Bene! Again!**

Thank you, again, for your kind reviews. I really appreciate them. Forgive my lack of personal responses, but I usually check my e-mails while I have my morning coffee and I am not at my most coherent at that time.

I apologize for the delay of this chapter. I've spent the last couple of weeks mired in coursework for my Astrology/Parapsychology course (500 page book + four tests = no writing time for me). Oh, and still plugging away at the J.O.B. Can't forget that (as much as I would like to).

Also, my PC decided to go to Hell last month. When Trojans attack older computers, it isn't pretty. I've since acquired a laptop and have reacquainted myself with typing on a much smaller keypad (with less than successful results). Tomorrow, that new wireless keyboard is so getting installed, I tell you.

**Disclaimer:**

I own my OCs. Disney owns their OCs. Y'all know the drill.

So, without further ado, here's Chapter 4!

**Chapter Four**

"_You can change the words you say, stop the things you do. Throw away your yesterdays, you'll still be stuck with you. But don't be sad. Get a hold upon yourself before you get too far. No matter what you have to learn to live with who you are"_

_-Tony Banks_

It was only about 8 a.m. when Riley reached the Hartford city limits. Usually, he wasn't up this early on any day as he considered mornings to be evil entities, but he hadn't been able to fall back to sleep after his earlier discovery. On the bright side, his nausea had finally abated, even though the cramps still maintained their relentless assault and he now had to contend with sweats and a seemingly sore throat. Riley knew he should be in bed, but the matter at hand was just too pressing. His drive to find out the truth of his origins overrode his physical ailments.

He kept his eyes open for a familiar coffee shop, an old haunt from his teen years. He had regularly escaped there and, for a brief spell, he could forget who he was. He could know what it was like to be normal, not be the rich computer geek that his peers saw fit to exploit.

The coffee shop was a short distance from the highway. He was fortunate to find a parking space right in front. It was too bitterly cold to walk any kind of distance. He stopped the car, pausing only to grab his phone and laptop before heading inside.

The shop hadn't changed much in the nearly thirteen years since he had last stepped foot in it. A wave of déjà vu washed over Riley and he swallowed thickly, wincing at the rawness in his throat. He couldn't help but think of the last time he had been here and who he had been with. He shook off the thought, concentrating instead on the matter at hand. His psyche couldn't handle that trauma, now.

_One crisis at a time, please. My brain is full._

The coffee shop wasn't too busy as there weren't many people up at this hour on a Sunday. Riley was relieved. He wasn't in the mood to be around a lot of anything two-legged and breathing.

Giving special consideration to his beleaguered stomach, he ordered a peppermint tea at the counter instead of his usual mochaccino. He headed to the back of the shop and sat down at a table, willing his ears to tune out the New Age instrumental music that filtered through the shop's speakers. He opened up his laptop and started it up. As soon as the laptop acquired a Wi-Fi signal, he opened browser to see what awaited him in his Inbox. He knew he was stalling and he didn't care. He was so absorbed in weeding out the junk mail from the little that was legitimate, that he didn't hear anyone approach him until he heard the voice.

"Sir, I tried calling you, but I guess you didn't hear me. Here's your peppermint tea…," the words died in the young woman's throat.

Riley glanced up, goose bumps breaking out on his flesh. He felt like the fates were truly conspiring against him. Or maybe she was merely a figment of his overstressed imagination.

"J-Julie?" he stammered. He had been certain he would never see her again, but here she was. Standing in front of him. Wearing a barista's uniform. Holding his tea in her shaky hands. Her brown hair was longer than he remembered and she looked a lot older, but he definitely didn't need to refer to the nametag pinned to her blouse to know it was her.

This was quite the weekend for shocking discoveries or rediscoveries as the case may be. Riley sighed wearily. When it rains, it pours.

Julie, who had been staring at Riley agape, pursed her lips together in a thin line. Her voice became cold as she leveled a glare at him that would melt ice. "Do I know you?"

Those four words cut through Riley like the sharpest of knives. Anger and hurt that he long ago buried bubbled to the surface. "We used to be engaged or did you conveniently forget?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else." With that, she set Riley's tea down on the table hard enough to almost shatter the saucer and cup. She spun around on her heel and marched back behind the counter. A coworker glanced at her curiously, as she disappeared into the kitchen. The coworker turned to stare at Riley for a long moment and her mouth dropped open. Riley squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable. What was her problem? She wasn't going to call the cops, was she?

Riley sat back his chair, resting his head on the back and closing his eyes. Before his bruised psyche could even assess what had just happened, his phone rang shrilly, causing a couple of nearby patrons to glare at him for disturbing their peace. Riley opened his eyes and managed a half-hearted, sheepish smile as he flipped the phone open. He pushed the "Talk" button.

"Hello, you've reached Riley. Aliens have abducted me and left my pod person behind. He's not too good with a phone, so leave your message at the beep and I will be sure to return your call when the aliens have finished conducting their evil experiments. Beeeep!"

"Riley!" Ben said, his voice a mixture of relief and incredulity. There was a pause. "Wait…What are you doing awake? You're usually dead to the world at this hour."

There was no fooling Ben with the fake answering machine routine. "Pulled an all-nighter," Riley replied, the inadvertent yawn adding credibility to his claim. "What's up?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday afternoon! What have you been up to? It isn't like you not to answer your phone."

"I had it off. I didn't want to be disturbed while I was working," Riley replied. Man, that sounded weak, even to his own ears. He really needed to take a course in Impressive White Lies to Effectively Dupe Your Friends 101.

There was another pause, followed by another patented Ben Gates exasperated sigh. "If this is about Thursday night, I'm sorry for overreacting…"

"No, it isn't," Riley interrupted. "I've just been busy."

Another pause. "Well, anyway I wondered if you wanted to come over for dinner this evening. Don't worry, the coast is clear. Abigail has crossed your name off her List."

Riley half smiled. "Ben, I'm afraid I can't make it. I still have a lot of work to do here. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," Ben's voice was flat and Riley knew the wheels were turning furiously in his head. "Riley, what's going on? It isn't like you to pass on home cooked food twice in a single week."

"Just trying to watch that calorie intake. I have to keep my boyish figure for the ladies, you know," he quipped, halfheartedly.

"You know Riley, you don't sound like yourself. If there's anything you need to talk about…"

"Ben, there's nothing to talk about, because nothing is going on!" Riley's tone was a bit more abrupt than he would have liked and he softened. It both comforted and annoyed Riley when Ben would go into mother hen mode. "I just have a bit of a stomach ache. Guess I caught that bug that's going around. Don't worry. It's nothing I can't handle. I just don't feel like socializing. I want to get my work done and get some much needed sleep."

"Riley…" Ben began.

Look, Ben, my battery is getting low. I have to go." Riley hung up and quickly turned his phone off, before his friend could run with whatever thought just entered his head. He hated lying to his friend, but he couldn't bring him into this. Ben would never understand why Riley had never told him before and Riley knew from experience that Benjamin Franklin Gates couldn't abide by liars. Besides, how Riley explain who he was if he no longer knew himself?

He took a sip of his tea, trying to ignore the barista that kept shooting pointed stares in his direction. He braced himself for the long day ahead and logged out of his e-mail program. He started typing furiously.

By late afternoon, Riley was barely closer to the truth than when he started. After searching people finder databases without success, he found a Google listing for a Marjorie Greenburg in Warwick, Rhode Island. She had been reported as a missing person to the Warwick police department in November, 1978.

He swallowed thickly as he remembered the scant details that he had hacked from the PD's mainframe. There had essentially been zero investigation. There was no evidence of foul play. The case was closed. She had been chalked up to someone who had wanted to disappear.

_So, she couldn't have wanted me too badly,_ he thought bitterly. _Status quo._

His search hadn't been entirely unproductive, however. The people finder databases had a listing for a Doris Greenburg in Providence. Given the proximity to Warwick and the same last name, he assumed her to be Marjorie's mother, maybe an aunt. The discovery was bittersweet. If his biological mother hadn't wanted him, Riley didn't pin any hopes on the rest of her family.

He took off his glasses and set them down on the table. He was getting a headache. Sleep deprivation, lack of food and annoying music would do that to a person. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his forehead in agitation. Persistent stomach cramps worsened his mood. The tea had only exacerbated the problem. He rested his head in his hand and his elbow on the arm of the chair as he closed his weary eyes for a brief rest.

He didn't know anyone had approached him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Riley's eyes flew open and he gasped, feeling like he had been scared out of ten years of his life. He thought it was his ex-fiancé's coworker coming over for the billionth time to ask him if he wanted some more tea. He looked up, prepared to sound out the nagging barista, but saw Ben standing there, instead.

Riley's stomach flip-flopped and he gulped, nervously. This wasn't good. Lord knew this wasn't good.

"Ben! What in Hell are you doing here?"

Ben sighed as he took the seat across from Riley at the table. His face was unreadable and Riley couldn't decide if that was good or bad. He fidgeted in his chair as Ben fixed him with his soul probing stare.

"I want some answers, Mister Landley."


	5. Chapter 5

**Nota Bene, Part V:**

**First, some notes of gratitude:**

Thank y'all for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!

Thank you, Ellasphere, for taking on the role of beta. Your insight for this chapter has proved most helpful. :)

**Author's notes:**

Ellasphere mentioned clarifying a couple of things in this chapter as some readers might be unfamiliar. I had referred to the Associated Press (the news feed) as the AP, but I ended up using the full name. When Riley refers to the family alma mater, he's just saying that it's the school that his father (and grandfather) attended and graduated from.

By all means, readers, if there are any terms, New England sayings (I live in Vermont and am writing about another New England state), etc. that are unfamiliar to you, speak up. I will either clarify them in the story or chapter's notes.

Speaking of the alma mater, I changed it. Yes, I went back and changed it earlier in the story, as well. I need to reload some chapters as I also corrected a few things on my read-through.

Several of you commented on my adding Ben to the storyline. Actually, I had written him into the original version of this story, so it was only fitting to write him into this version. However, I had to scrap my original idea of these two having this convo in a bar. Nope, no beers for Riley in the condition he's in.

I have also retained my original idea to not feature Abigail too prominently. I just couldn't dream up a useful role for her that would still play by the rules I have set up for this story.

As for Riley's ex, she will have minimal involvement with this story. I just wanted to introduce her and, yes, I meant to make her a bitch. But, if I go ahead with my idea for a sequel (which I probably will), then she will have more of the stage.

Ruby890, as for the question about how Ben knew of Riley's whereabouts, trust me, the answer is in this chapter. Patience, dear readers. Patience. All questions will be answered.

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own the NT characters, just my OCs. You know the drill.

Okay, you Riley-angst fans, I present Chapter 5 with much glitter and happiness. Well, Ben and Riley aren't really happy and I'm fresh out of glitter but, it sounded good.

**Chapter Five**

"_Now maybe some would say you're left with what you had, but you couldn't share the pain. I said times have changed your friends. They come and watch you crumble to the ground. They watch you suffer. Yeah, they hold you down…Now, maybe brother…I didn't mean to treat you bad, but you left me far behind."_

_-Candlebox_

There was an uncomfortable pause as the two men stared at each other. Riley feared that whatever transpired in this coffee shop likely wouldn't end in his favor. He swallowed thickly ignoring the soreness in his throat. There was nothing quite like staring down the barrel at the end of a friendship. He tried to retain some semblance of composure as he broke the terse silence. "How did you know where to find me?"

Ben took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and tossed it over to Riley. "If you're going to make a practice of deceiving your friends with false identities, you need to improve your ability to cover your tracks."

Riley picked up the paper and unfolded it. It was the letter from his father's lawyer. _What the Hell?_ "So why did you feel the need to let yourself into my place and start snooping around in my business?" His voice was shrill, drawing curious and annoyed stares from the few other patrons.

"I got a feeling that something wasn't right. When I spoke to you Thursday night, you sounded off. At the time, I didn't think much of it. I just thought you were having a bad day. But, I noticed that flat tonality again when I spoke to you earlier today. When I told Abigail about our phone conversation and the fact you were ill, she became concerned. She had already been concerned about you forgetting Thursday night's dinner invitation, since you usually stick to your commitments. I couldn't help, but think that there was an off chance one of us did something to offend you, though for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what.

"I tried calling you back several times, but I kept getting your voice mail. I tried texting, instant messaging and e-mailing you, but you didn't answer. That definitely piqued our curiosity as you never let your computer or your phone out of your sight. That was when we decided to go to your townhouse. Our worry grew when we didn't see your car out front and we couldn't find you inside. Then, I saw that letter lying in plain sight on your coffee table. At first, I thought it was some kind of mistake. Then, I spied your hastily scribbled notes of departure and arrival flights. A quick Google search of your real name provided the rest of what I needed to know. At least now I know the source of the music I could hear in the background when we talked this morning."

Ben clasped his hands in front of him. "So, what kind of game are you playing, Riley? Or is it Ryerson? Forgive my ignorance, but all this time I assumed you were Riley Poole, technologically gifted co-treasure protector. I didn't realize you were really Ryerson P. Landley, sole heir to a sizable fortune. Yeah, it's already hit the Associated Press along with a nice clear picture of you leaving the airport."

Riley blinked. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. "Call me, Riley, like you always have." Another pause followed. "But, how did you know I'd be _here_? There are, like, a dozen coffee shops in Hartford."

"I was riding in the cab and spotted a lone, red convertible amidst a sea of sedans and SUVs. I figured the odds of finding you in this particular establishment were in my favor."

"Where's Abigail?" Riley scouted the café for a sign of the blonde-haired woman. "You guys are usually joined at the hip."

"She decided to sit this one out. She thought that you might be more forthcoming if it didn't look like we were ganging up on you."

"She actually let you off your leash? Will wonders never cease?" Riley asked as he finished off his third peppermint tea. The liquid had gone cold long ago. He made a face. It wasn't a taste treat he would recommend.

"At least you weren't lying about being sick. You know, you really do look like shit and you sound worse."

Riley rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that endorsement, Ben, because I feel like crap."

"Why aren't you in bed? You need your rest."

Riley managed a half smile at Ben's mother hen routine. "Thanks for the concern, Ben, but I think I can handle it."

Ben's eyes suddenly blazed, his face a livid mask like the one he had worn on _The Charlotte_ when Ian had betrayed them. "Oh, like you handled this? Jesus, Riley, why couldn't you confide in us? In me! You aren't in some kind of trouble, are you?"

"No, nothing like that."

"So, then, what is so terrible that you couldn't tell me for five years? Damn it!" Ben slammed his palm on the table and Riley jumped, almost wishing for the silence to come back. "After all we've been through, together, I at least deserve to know who I've really been dealing with."

Riley blinked as his psyche absorbed the sting of Ben's remark. "You know, Ben, I would love to tell you that, but I don't even know anymore!"

Ben's face went from mad to stunned in a matter of a second. Clearly, this wasn't the answer he had been expecting. "What do you mean by that?"

Riley's breath hitched as a stomach cramp assaulted his insides and Ben furrowed his brow in concern. "I mean it just the way it sounds. I don't know. Apparently, my life as I've known it has been one huge lie and I have the original, unadulterated birth certificate to prove it. The woman who I thought was my mother wasn't my mother, at all. My real mother was an affair that my father had a long time ago. Ryerson Landley III isn't my real name, either. It's James Paulson Greenburg. That's why I'm here. I needed to do some research and I couldn't gain access to the Internet while at the house."

Ben was silent for a moment as he pondered this newest, unexpected revelation. "But, what about the rest of it? How come you never once mentioned to me who your family was?"

Riley took a long, shaky breath both to steady his nerves and focus his, now, blurring sight. He was feeling worse by the minute. "Because, my childhood is kind of a downer, Ben. My father was two-faced man. When it came to his antiques dealing or his philanthropy, he could be quite approachable. At home, he was a cold-hearted bastard who hated the very fiber of my being!"

"Are you saying he beat you?" Ben said.

"A parent doesn't have to hit you to abuse you, Ben," Riley whispered.

"You mean, he…?" Ben's voice sounded strangled.

It took Riley a minute to deduce where Ben was going with his thought and, when he did, he nearly fell out of his chair. "Jesus, Ben, not that!" Riley exclaimed as he composed himself. "I meant that he used to berate me constantly. I couldn't breathe around him, without him picking me apart. Nothing I could do was right. He didn't want me. He never did. He proved that every time he pressed me under his thumb. He was never there for a birthday, a Christmas, but there would always be a plethora of material things in his stead. Like, an inanimate object could ever be a replacement for a parent. The more he pushed me to be like him, to become a suitable heir, the more I resisted and the more he told me I was no good.

"I put up with his shit for years, thinking that it was normal. I tried to find acceptance and love through other people, only to be thrown away when I wasn't useful to them anymore." Riley blinked rapidly as his gaze averted to the glass table top. He wouldn't let Ben see the tears forming in his eyes.

"Riley…" Ben began, but Riley held up a hand, gesturing for his friend to let him finish. He was either going to get the whole story out, now, or not at all.

"The final straw was Dartmouth. He made me attend the family alma mater and I fell in with this group of guys during my sophomore year. They had started a betting ring and needed someone good with computers to wire the winnings into an offshore account. I know it was illegal, but they made me feel included, wanted, and it was a feeling I didn't enjoy too often. Long story short, the ring was eventually busted up and I was left holding the bag. I was expelled and it was by the dean's good grace that I wasn't brought up on charges. I guess he had a lot of respect for the family name. My father totally lost his mind when he found out."

Ben's brow knit together in another patented facial expression, the one he used when he was trying to work through a difficult puzzle. "Okay, but there's something I don't get. You were an adult when you left home. Why did you have to put on such an elaborate ruse?"

"As a Landley, I would always be stuck under that reputation. I would always be linked to him. I wanted my own life, something that he couldn't control. I created a new history for myself, all the while covering my whereabouts as I cut off my old identity. As far as I'm concerned, Ryerson P. Landley III ceased to exist in 2000 and, if you don't mind, I refuse to go by that name, now."

Ben said nothing for quite some time. Riley turned off his laptop, closed it and fidgeted nervously with the latch while waiting for a response from his friend. The New Age music continued to float through the café's speakers, each note grating on Riley's frazzled nerves. He had to break the silence before he lost his mind. "I wanted to tell you both of you, but I'd been carrying this around for so long that I didn't think you would understand."

"And, finding out this way was better?" Ben's voice was cold again and Riley almost wished for the silence back. "You haven't said anything just now that couldn't have been said long ago. Yet, you had made up your mind that I would end our friendship without giving me a chance to prove myself to the contrary. I think your reason for not telling me is more offensive than the action itself."

"Oh, come on, Ben! When I met you, the first thing you told me was that you couldn't abide by liars. I thought we were just going to be business partners, so I didn't see anything wrong with using the pseudonym I had created for myself. I never thought we would end up being friends. By then, I thought it was too late to tell you who I really was. I was afraid I would lose the only real friend I ever had."

"Way to underestimate our friendship, Riley," Ben said, softly. The fight seemed to have gone out of him.

Sleep deprivation, stress, emotional turmoil and illness all took their toll on the last remaining vestiges of Riley's sanity. "Oh, now you're pissed, because I told you? I can't win with you, can I? I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't! So says The Great and Powerful Ben Gates!" Now Riley was on a roll as the floodgates of every pent-up emotion toward his friend rushed forth. "I saw that angry look in your eyes when you sat down at this table, Ben. Don't insult my intelligence by telling me that you never entertained the thought of exiting my life forever like every other so-called friend before you!"

Riley plunged ahead, not paying heed to Ben the audience that the two had garnered during their animated and heated discussion. "You know Ben, countless times I have believed in you, followed you blindly as you've dragged me from one fantastic scheme to the next. Why can't believe in me just as blindly? Who in Hell do you think you are that I have to justify myself to you?"

"Riley, of course I believe in you!" Ben countered.

"Then, why did you feel the need to fly up here to interrogate me when I was coming home tomorrow, anyway? You took it upon yourself to come up here, uninvited and barge into this area of my life, like I'm some little boy that can't be left to his own devices." Riley paused to catch his breath. "What am I to you, Ben? Really?"

Ben blinked as if he was seeing Riley for the first time. "What do you mean by that?"

"Am I really your friend or am I just a tool that you can put on a shelf and dust off whenever you happen to need a favor? Really, I've noticed that in the last few years, the pattern has definitely shifted in favor of the latter."

Ben was speechless. Riley's sleep-deprived, sickness-addled mind decided Ben's silence must mean that he hit the nail on the head. In his life, when it came to how other people treated him, there couldn't be another option.

Riley snorted in contempt as he looked heavenward. He shook his head, trying to deter the emotions threatening to spill. Why did this bother him so much? It wasn't like he had never lost a friend before.

"Yeah, I thought as much." The emotional stress wasn't being kind to Riley's body either and, now, aching muscles and a racing heartbeat added to the internal assault. He swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his raw throat. He had to get out of there before he broke down completely. He stood up and grabbed his computer. "Well, the last five years have been real, Ben," he said. "You'll understand if we part company, but I still have some affairs to tend to. Oh, you don't have to worry about me anymore, because I don't need your damned pity, if you can't bring yourself to be in my corner when it counts!" A nauseating wave of vertigo hit him and he grabbed the edge of the table before he fell over it.

"Riley, wait!" Riley felt Ben's hand tightly encircle his arm. "I'm not letting you leave like this."

Riley wrenched his arm free from Ben's firm grasp. "I told you not to worry about me, Ben. Look, consider the end of our friendship like ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster it's done, the less painful it will be."

Ben sat back in his chair, stunned and Riley saw a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Riley seethed. He walked hurriedly up to the counter to pay for his tea ignoring the pointed and curious stares from his ex, the other barista and other patrons.

Maybe taking it so fast so soon wasn't such a hot idea as his head felt increasingly dizzy. Riley tried to shake it off as he turned for the door. He managed to make it back to his rental car without passing out and had just unlocked the driver's side door when he felt that firm grip on his arm again. He gritted his teeth and his shoulders rose over his ears in a defensive gesture.

"Let go of me!" he hissed.

"Not a chance, kid," Ben replied and Riley felt himself being spun around. That did nothing for his lightheadedness and his legs buckled. He almost collapsed, but Ben caught him. "Do you really think I'm letting you out of my sight in the condition you're in?"

"What part of, 'I can take care of myself,' did you fail to comprehend? All of it? Part of it? Do you need some flash cards or something?"

"Call me crazy, but I'm concerned about my best friend. The last I knew, that wasn't a crime. Now, give me your keys. You are in no shape, mentally or physically, to drive."

"I'm fine, Ben," Riley spat.

"Oh, really? So, if I let go, then you will be able to stay standing on your own?" To prove his point, Ben let go of Riley's arm. Riley, unprepared for the maneuver, almost fell on his face, but Ben again caught him. "Thought, so."

The more Ben reached out to him, the more Riley felt himself shun his friend. It was purely instinctive, an ability that Riley had developed in defense to people and he had long ago lost the ability to control it. Keep people at arm's length and they can't get close enough to knock you down. "Ben, I don't need your God damned help!" All this yelling was only making him feel exponentially worse mentally and physically. He wished Ben would just leave him alone.

"I know what you're trying to do Riley and, trust me, it isn't going to work. You can push all you want, but I'm not going anywhere. Frankly, I can't even begin to imagine how you got such a ridiculous notion implanted in your head! Are you going to give me your keys willingly or I am going to have to treat you like a child and pry them from your fist?"

Like a dog with a bone, Ben Gates wasn't going to let this go. He couldn't let anything go, could he? Riley sighed in concession, not in defeat as he held out the keys. He wasn't letting Ben back in entirely, merely shutting him up for a while. Ben could perform his good friend turned Good Samaritan deed, return to D.C. and leave Riley to his familial business.

As Riley felt the keys yanked from his hand, he risked a glance at Ben, his first since the interior of the coffee shop. Ben returned his stare with a concerned look that was tinged ever so slightly with fear. Riley didn't put up a protest as Ben led him around the car to the passenger side and sat him in the seat, closing the door behind him. A minute later, they were pulling away from the curb.

"Where do I go?" Ben asked.

Just take a left at the end of this street and hop on the southbound highway. It's about a fifteen-minute drive to the Oak Hollow exit. From there, drive through the village to the outskirts. You won't be able to miss the brick monstrosity looming up on the right."

"You know, I would feel much better about taking you to a hospital."

"And, I guess I'm a better judge than you on whether or not such a trip is necessary," Riley countered. "I just have the flu and I need some rest. That's all."

Riley could tell that Ben wasn't convinced, but he said nothing more about the matter. However, the wheels were clearly turning in Ben's head, if the determined blaze in his eyes was any indication.

They rode in silence for a while. Riley didn't know what to say to Ben after his outburst. He was conflicted. He wanted desperately to believe that Ben was still his friend. After all, he had stuck around the longest of anyone he had known. That had to count for something. Benjamin Franklin Gates didn't give anything or anyone credit if it seemed to lack merit, though his judgment was off at times.

But, the cynical facet of his mind couldn't help but point out that Riley's merit lay solely in what Ben could gain from him. They had met, because Ben needed a favor. The long hiatus after the discovery of the Templar treasure had only been broken when Ben needed another favor. There had been another hiatus of their friendship after Cibola while Ben and Abigail were reconciling. When the smoke cleared, Ben and Abigail had invited him for dinners and such, but Riley suspected that it was only because Abigail insisted. For some reason, she worried about him living alone and insisted on checking up on him like he was her child. It comforted, amused and annoyed the Hell out of him. Other than these invitations, there was little contact with Ben, especially over the last half year. Essentially, Ben had his life and Riley had his. Ben might have been brilliant with historical data, but his people skills needed work in a big way.

Then, there was that nagging issue, the whole faux pas about no one reading his book. The initial sting had long faded, but he was still bitter in a way. He could forgive Abigail and Patrick. The one he was most bitter with was Ben, because he thought the older man's attitude was more than a little hypocritical. Why was he always called upon to support Ben unconditionally in this or that, if Ben couldn't at least pretend to show enthusiasm for Riley's creative effort?

It was all this that had really caused Riley to rip into Ben, though Riley would admit that he could have phrased most of it a lot better than he did. Ben's arrival in Hartford had merely been the match to light the fuse of the mental meltdown. Riley rubbed his right temple. All of this thinking made his head spin. His heart still raced and, now, he had trouble drawing a long breath. He felt cold, but he was sweating profusely. He was deteriorating by the second. The sooner he could get back to the house and rest, the better he would be.

"What in Hell is this person doing?" Ben said, breaking Riley's train of thought. Riley glanced up to see Ben looking intently in the rearview mirror, concern, fear and confusion in his eyes. Riley looked in his own mirror to see a black car closing in on them at a high rate of speed. His eyes widening in alarm, he sat up straighter in the seat, bracing himself for an impact.

Ben swerved the car into the next lane and the black car pulled up alongside, maintaining the same speed. Without warning, the black car pitted into the right rear of the Mustang and drove ahead at a higher rate of speed. Ben hit a patch of black ice and spun out, narrowly missing a speeding SUV. The passenger side of the car collided roughly with the guardrail. Riley's head smacked against the window from the inertia. Definitely not what the doctor ordered for curing a pounding headache.

There was a long pause. "Are you all right?" Ben's eyes were as wide as saucers and he looked like he's seen a ghost. His voice was clipped in fear.

Riley's opened his mouth to answer Ben, but he couldn't make his mouth form the words. The black pinpoints assaulted his vision.

"Riley!" Ben called.

Riley couldn't fight the inevitable. Ben's voice, the feeling of his hand on Riley's cheek, the sound of the cars speeding by on the highway all disappeared as he succumbed to the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Nota Bene:**

As always, thank you for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!

Ellaspehere, thank you for your help! It is much appreciated. :)

It took a lot longer than I wanted to write this thing. Emotional scenes are fairly difficult for me. Let's just say I have put in plenty of 4 – 5 a.m. bedtimes during the last few weeks rewriting, splicing and generally pulling my hair out. I had a trial and a half trying not to make Ben and Riley overly feminine, but not making them emotionally detached. I just had to keep reminding myself that these two are just like Doctor Brown and Marty McFly without that paternal facet. Hopefully, the final result is a bit less cringe worthy than the original draft.

And speaking of that BTTF pairing, I recently discovered that Justin Bartha is a fan of the movies. Oh, yes, I plan to use that. Somewhere. It isn't every day when my fandoms collide.

In this chapter, as well as the rest of the story, Riley will refer to his father's wife as his mother. In this 'verse, the woman raised him for the first part of his life, so the term fits. His biological mother will be referred to as such or as his birth mother. I apologize for any resulting confusion, but there aren't many synonyms or alternate titles for this kind of thing.

**Disclaimers:**

I don't own the NT characters, but y'all know that. I only lay claim to mine.

The pastor's words in this chapter are not mine. They are taken from a poem, "The Burial," written by Charlie Stowe (in 1932, I think) for a funeral program for his deceased wife (my great-aunt's cousin, I think). I just tweaked a few words to make it guy appropriate. Also, I cut it off about halfway through as it got a bit personal. Besides, the whole thing would likely have been overkill.

So, you Riley angst fans, I hope this inspires you to stock up on tissues. Let the story commence!

**Chapter Six**

"_So, why ya gotta stand there looking like the answer, now? It seems to me you'd come around. I need you now. Do you think you can cope? You figured me out, though I've never spoken. I come undone, in this mad season."_

_-Rob Thomas (Matchbox 20)_

**NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT**

_"Riley, honey, don't get too close to the water!"_

_Laughing, Riley toddled over to his mother who sat higher on the sandy bank. It was a hard climb for his little legs. She ruffled his dark hair and he laughed harder. "Why don't you gather some seashells, like I showed you?" she said, smiling._

_Riley took a couple of steps, then stooped and picked up a tiny object. It was smooth in his hand. He went back over to his mother and dropped it into her outstretched hand._

_"Seesell!" he announced proudly._

_"No, this is a rock, sweetie."_

_"Wock!"_

_"Close enough," she said, laughing. "What else can you find?"_

_Riley turned away, spying a tiny shell half-hidden in the sand. As he enclosed his hand around the object, the sand around him dissolved and he found himself standing on a plank floor. The bright sunshine and blue sky had been replaced by a dim light bulb and white painted walls. He opened his fist and looked at his hand. The shell was gone._

_A steady dripping caught his attention. A pool of water formed around his feet. He turned around, his heart filled with dread._

_Water cascaded over the side of the antique bathtub. He looked up to see his mother, her head lolled to the side, her mouth under water and her eyes dull and lifeless. She didn't acknowledge him in her usual, warm way. In fact, she didn't seem to have heard him come in._

_"Mommy," Riley said softly as he tugged at the hand that hung limply over the side of the tub. She didn't respond. This was wrong, so wrong. He tugged harder. "Mommy!" he shrieked. Still nothing. "Wake up!" But, his plea fell on deaf ears._

_A hulking form towered over him, then, and Riley gasped as he looked up. He cringed in fear. _

"Doctor Greene, please report to surgery! Dr. Greene to surgery!"

The phantom, female voice cut through Riley's terrifying dream. Had he fallen asleep with his television on, again? His sense of disorientation grew as a strong antiseptic odor, like isopropyl alcohol assaulted his nostrils. His fingers brushed against a smooth, stiff fabric. His head felt like someone was using it as a drum. A persistent pain shot up his right arm. Riley's muddled mind likened it to a prick of a needle intensified by one hundred. On the bright side, his stomach was no longer on fire and his throat wasn't sore, just dry. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they had been filled with lead. He couldn't remember when he had been so overwhelmingly exhausted. Something beeped softly beside him, but it didn't sound like his alarm clock. He had set the alarm at a decibel level to wake the dead. This was too quiet.

Riley couldn't stand the suspense anymore. Something just didn't feel right and he forced his blue eyes open a crack. Bright sunshine streamed into the room making the white walls that much more blinding. Riley squeezed his eyes shut, his retinas burning. After a few seconds he dared to open his eyes again, blinking as he surveyed his surroundings. He saw that he was in a hospital room, an IV needle hooked into his right arm and an electrocardiogram heart monitor humming along, also to his right. An empty chair sat to the left of his bed.

How had he gotten here? At first, he couldn't remember a thing. Then, like the hazy events of a dream, the last couple of days of his life came rushing back to him. His father's house, being sick, finding out about his biological mother, the horrible scene at the coffee shop with Ben and then a somewhat hazier memory of some kind of an accident on the highway.

A doctor came in, then, interrupting Riley from his morbid train of thought. "You're awake, I see. I'm Doctor Carroll." He began prodding him, checking his blood pressure. "Noticeably improved, though still a bit elevated" the doctor remarked. "Respiration is fine. You have more color. You are a very lucky young man. We'll have to keep you under observation for, at least, another few days to see if you have suffered any nerve or other damage from the poisoning." HeDr. Carrol walked over to the end of Riley's bed and removed a clipboard from the hook. He began scribbling notes.

_Oh, great, my hearing must be damaged!_ Riley swore he hadn't heard the doctor correctly. He couldn't have. "Poisoning?" he croaked.

Dr. Carroll paused momentarily and looked at Riley gravely. "You arrived here with an acute case of arsenic poisoning. You have been in a coma for the past three days. You went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance. We got you stable, but it was touch and go for a while. I dare say that if you had been brought in any later, your prognosis would much grimmer indeed. "

Riley glanced again at the empty chair next to his bed and his stomach flip-flopped. Where was Ben? "Was there another guy brought in?"

"Oh, yes, your friend rode in with you in the ambulance. We treated him for some scrapes and bruises, nothing too serious. He was released Sunday evening." The doctor wrote a final note, before replacing the clipboard on its hook. I need to finish my rounds, but I'll be back." Dr. Carroll left and Riley was again alone with his thoughts.

A knot began to form in Riley's stomach as a certainty set in. Ben had fulfilled his duty by bringing him to the hospital and had returned to D.C. After all, why would he want to stick around after Riley had ripped him a new one for no apparent reason?

"Way to go, Riley," he muttered miserably as he closed his eyes and drew in a long, shuddery breath. His hateful words came back to haunt him and he bit his lip. He'd blown it with Ben. He knew that. He swallowed thickly as sudden fatigue overwhelmed him and he fell again into a deep sleep. He thought he could feel a warm hand encircle his, firmly, but he chalked it up to a mere hallucination.

_"You made me do this! You should never have been born! I don't deserve such a cross to bear as you! Get your miserable visage out of my sight!"_

_Riley risked one, last glance at his dead mother as the scene morphed again. A dark and cloudy sky replaced the off-white bathroom ceiling. A light drizzle fell upon him as he gazed down at a closed coffin adorned with a mixture of __red and white roses__, lying next to a freshly dug hole. _

_A soft sobbing made him glance to his left. Abigail cried into a handkerchief, her eyes screwed shut. Ben held her close, his own eyes red and wet with unshed tears as more streamed down his face. Riley gulped in fear as he looked again at the casket. The doctor's words came back to him. "Acute arsenic poisoning." This was his funeral. _

"_Let us here his ashes scatter,_

'_Mid the roses growing 'round._

_Now to him it doesn't matter,_

_His sleep is long and sound._

_For him no more pain and weeping!_

_No troubled dreams disturb his sleeping…"_

_The pastor's words faded into the background as Riley's mind reeled. This was only a random figment of his imagination summoned forth to terrify him. Riley opened his mouth to tell his friends that he was alive, that he was okay, but no sound came out. He reached out to touch Ben's shoulder, but his hand went through his friend as though he was a ghost._

_Then, someone grabbed him roughly by the arm. He turned his head to see a desiccated version of his father. Three months in the grave had not been kind. Riley shuddered in revulsion as bile rose in his throat at the blackened, rotting flesh. Yes, decomposition was as bad as the horror movies made it out to be._

"_You don't belong with them! You're coming with me!"_

_Riley turned back toward his friends. Ben now looked straight at him, his face a mixture of incredulity and hope. Riley tried to call to him, but his mouth still refused to cooperate. Instead, he reached out his free hand, imploringly, as his father began to drag him away. Ben reached forward and grabbed it, firmly, and began pulling Riley back toward him with all the might he possessed. Riley felt like the rope in a macabre tug-of-war."_

"_Stay with me!" Ben pleaded._

"_You will never leave me! I will make sure of that!" his father barked as he tugged sharply on Riley's arm. A shot of pain coursed through it. He couldn't scream._

"_You have to wake up," Ben ordered, tugging hard on Riley's hand and wrenching him from his father's grip._

Riley awoke with a start, panting heavily and covered in sweat. A second later, a flood of white light blinded him and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden brightness. As they adjusted, he opened his eyes to see a concerned Ben Gates hovering over him.

"Jesus, Riley," he said softly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Riley blinked as the initial trauma from the nightmare wore off. He was in the hospital room, safe and sound. The events of the dream had been terrifyingly real to him. He could still feel the cold rain on his face and the icy grip of his father on his arm. He shuddered under the stiff hospital sheet and blanket.

"How are you feeling? You had a Hell of a nightmare!"

_You can say that again. _"A little tired," Riley croaked as he moved himself into a half-sitting position. Man, his throat felt dry! "Can I get some water?"

Ben nodded and let go of Riley's hand, reaching around to grab a pitcher and paper cup from the table next to him. Ben poured a trace amount of water into the cup and held it up to Riley's mouth so he could drink.

"I'm sorry, but this is all I'm allowed to give you."

Riley drank the water, gratefully. "It's okay." He looked at Ben and the gray pallor that his face had taken. His friend's face looked tired, drawn and dark circles had taken up residence under his eyes. "You know, now you're the one who looks like shit."

Ben cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "It's been such a rough few days; I don't even know where to start."

Riley blinked as a cold feeling washed over him. Three days in a coma. It was Wednesday. He had missed what he had come to this awful city to do. "Shit, I was supposed to meet with my father's lawyer!"

"I went to his office Monday morning and explained the situation. Your condition was still poor, then. He made me your temporary power of attorney, in case..." Ben cleared his throat again as he gripped Riley's hand. "Anyway, I was supposed to let him know if, um, when you woke up, so he could bring the papers here."

Riley swallowed thickly as he met Ben's eyes and he cleared his throat to disguise the voice that he knew would break. "What I said in the coffee shop, you know, it was bullshit. Really. I'm sorry."

Ben took a deep breath. "Some of your outburst could be attributed to your poisoning as irritability is a symptom, but that doesn't explain everything. Riley, you aren't one to spout off solely for the sake of doing so. There was truth to those words or you wouldn't have said them. However, I'm not going to bear the brunt of the blame, here. It takes two people to lose touch. Let's face it, kid, you are hard to figure. You wear an impenetrable wall all the time and you are loathe to let anyone in. It has occurred to me during my vigil, that I don't know much about you at all and that if I was suddenly to find myself in a position where I had to give your eulogy," Ben's voice broke, but he quickly regained his composure, "that I wouldn't know what to say. You are such a closed book that I never realized you felt the way you did. Have you really not learned to trust me in all this time?"

Riley considered whether or not he should say what was on the tip of his tongue. A desire to clear the air won the metal battle. "You know, Ben, you aren't blameless." His eyes squinted in scrutiny. "You can pick up a phone once in a while, too. I love you and Abi like family, but I will not actively seek out anyone. I've licked my own wounds for so long that it's automatic. A victim of my upbringing, I guess." He paused, inhaling deeply to keep his emotions at bay. "I depend on you guys to see if I'm okay. When you don't call, I assume that you have better things to do and I move on. You know, I'm not one of your musty history books. I'm not going to wait around until you decide to acknowledge my existence, because I can serve some purpose for you. Let's face the awful truth. Our friendship is superficial if we aren't united in a quest to find treasure!"

Ben looked winded by the remark, but only for a second. He dropped Riley's hand and ran his own hand through his hair, a look of utter disbelief evident on his face. "I don't believe you! You still think I only wanted you for what you could do for the treasure hunting expeditions? You can be the most exasperating, most stubborn person on this planet when you want to be! Goddamn it!" Riley cringed at the tone and the fury in his friend's voice. "I was here when they brought you in! I was in the ambulance when your heart stopped and they had to resuscitate you! I was here when they ran the tests! I have spent the last three days not knowing if you would ever again wake up! Don't you dare tell me our friendship is superficial, that I don't care about you! Don't. You. Dare!"

Riley blinked, his sapphire eyes wide, as he stared back at Ben. He couldn't hold the older man's intense stare and his eyes shifted down to the stark white sheet that covered him, then to the IV needle still stuck in his arm. Ben only yelled at him on rare occasions and he didn't like how it subdued him like a small child. Even more humiliating, he could feel his eyes well up. _Lord, if I start crying, just open up the Earth and swallow me whole._

"I'm sorry," Ben whispered, his voice sounding strained. "I haven't slept for a few days."

"It's okay," Riley whispered back. "You know, I really don't want to fight anymore."

"That makes two of us. Look, I know there is more to your story. You didn't tell me everything in the coffee shop."

"You know enough for now."

"Fair enough." Ben cleared his throat again.

"Do you need some hairball formula over there?"

Ben chuckled softly in spite of himself. "Maybe."

A change of subject was definitely in order. "I'm surprised Abigail isn't here, doing the doctors' job for them," Riley mused.

"She wanted to be here, but I told her to stay put. There is something very wrong going on here and I didn't want to endanger her. She is staying with my parents. Safety in numbers. She told me to take all the time I need as long as I keep her continually updated on your condition." Ben furrowed his brow. "Riley, do you know when you might have been exposed to arsenic? I mean, most people don't just stumble on the stuff and accidentally poison themselves."

"Who knows? Maybe, I sleepwalked into my father's kitchen and helped myself to a healthy dose of rat poison. Tastes great, less fat." He chuckled, but there wasn't any humor in it.

"This is serious, Riley! Someone tried to kill you!"

"No shit! Thank you for pointing the obvious out to me, Ben, because I couldn't figure it out for myself!" Riley's voice dripped in sarcasm as he met Ben's incredulous stare with a hard one of his own. "I started feeling ill Saturday night. The only thing that I ate that was different was the dinner Burton made."

"Did anything about the dinner appear funny to you?" Ben was genuinely curious and Riley had the unflappable feeling that he was on the verge of becoming one of the older man's puzzles. He didn't think he liked the idea.

"It was spicy. Not Burton's usual faire, but I hadn't been home in a long time, so I didn't think much of it." Riley shook his head as he grimaced. This trip home was proving to be more trouble than it was worth. "I assume the police are in on this, now." Great, the AP would have a field day with this one.

"They were," Ben said, with much bitterness in his voice. "They searched your father's house, the coffee shop and questioned me, your butler and the coffee shop's employees. They couldn't find the source of the arsenic. I haven't heard anything since Monday. Frankly, they didn't appear to be terribly concerned with your poisoning or the car accident. Apathetic bastards!"

"Car accident?"

"Another car hit us. Seemingly on purpose." Ben muttered the last part. "Don't you remember? You hit your head."

Riley shook his head. "I only have a vague memory. Sorry. I guess I was pretty out of it."

"The car is a total loss." When Riley cringed, Ben rushed on. "Don't worry, I took care of it. Anyway, the Hartford police said there wasn't enough eyewitness evidence to prove that we had been broadsided intentionally." Ben was silent for a moment and he appeared troubled. "The strangest thing about the accident was how one, efficient hit took out your car. A perfect pit maneuver, like the kind that police perform to end a chase," he mumbled, but he shook his head quickly like he didn't want to believe the possibility. "Riley, the letter from your father's lawyer said that your father also died in a car accident. Do you find that more than a mere coincidence? Two members of the same family meeting the same end only a few months apart?"

"So, you think the old man was hiding something and I'm now somehow wrapped up in it?"

"Possibly. Riley, think. Did your father have any enemies?"

"None that would dare stand up to him and his bevy of lawyers."

"What about your butler?"

"Burton was my father's stooge, Ben."

"A stooge that likely laced your food with arsenic. The letter from your father's lawyer stated you were the sole heir to the estate."

"I didn't think much of it at the time, but now that I remember how much he was up my father's ass all those years, it seems more than a little weird that he isn't getting _something_. But, to kill me over it? Jesus, I would gladly hand it all over! He really didn't have to go that far!"

"Yeah," Ben said slowly. "You know, I can't put my finger on it, but that scenario seems a bit convenient to me. I mean, the will could explain your butler's actions, if we are able to prove that he actually poisoned you. However, what about that accident on the highway? There's more to this story, but without clues, I'm afraid I can't piece together what that might be." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a haunted look appearing in his eyes. "It just makes me wonder what might have happened if I hadn't gone after you when you left the coffee shop."

"What do you mean? You were on me like glue the second I walked out that door!"

"Not quite," Ben admitted, shamefaced. "I sat there for a good couple of minutes, considering returning to Washington. You blew me away with what you said. It was so harsh and so sudden that I didn't know how to react." Ben gave Riley a hard look. "Seriously, I didn't need or deserve the shit you decided to dump on me."

"What made you change your mind?" Riley asked, softly.

"I can't explain it. I just had this weird feeling that if I left, something bad would happen. I don't know. I've spent the last few days going through the scenarios in my mind. What if you had been on the highway alone when that asshole rammed your car? What if you had passed out behind the wheel and had another kind of accident altogether? What if you had made it home to succumb to the poisoning in your sleep?" He swallowed back the tears, but his light blue eyes remained glassy. "The alternative scares the life out of me."

Riley swallowed thickly. It scared the life out of him, too. He remembered the vivid imagery of his dream and he shuddered. Ben immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you like that."

"It's not that," Riley said. "I was just thinking about the nightmare I had."

"Jeez, kid, what the Hell did you dream that scared you so bad? I tried to wake you up for five minutes."

"First, I dreamed about my mother." At Ben's quizzical expression, he added, "My father's wife. I've, um, had this dream before. I come into a bathroom, I don't know where, because it's not one at my father's house. Anyway, I find her lying in a tub full of water. Drowned."

Ben looked suitably horrified, but Riley rushed on without giving him a chance to respond. "Then, I had another dream, of my funeral. You were there and so was Abigail. I tried to tell you I was okay, but you couldn't hear me. Then, my father showed up and tried to take me with him, but you finally saw me and pulled me back. That was when I woke up."

"Christ," Ben whispered. He squeezed Riley's shoulder. He closed his eyes, his free hand resting momentarily over his mouth. His face was unnaturally pale.

Riley studied his friend for a minute, his own blue eyes wide with worry. _He looks seriously freaked out._ "Ben?"

Ben rubbed his forehead and opened his eyes. "Sorry, it was just a bit too close to the truth for comfort. He took a deep breath and his eyebrows furrowed as though something had occurred to him. "You mentioned your mother and it made me think of what you said in the coffee shop. How did you learn of your birth mother?"

"I was sick and rifling through my father's desk, looking for any vestige of my mother. Instead, I found a letter that my father wrote, detailing the whole story."

Ben looked at him intently. "What did the letter say?"

Riley shrugged. "It started off with the normal dying-man-atones-for-the-sins-of-life-spiel, then, he divulged the identity of my birth mother. He went on to say she loved me, but…"

"But, what?" Ben urged.

"That's it. It just cuts off there." Riley groaned. "And it's back with my stuff at the house." He blinked as the weight of what he just said settled in.

'A manila envelope?"

"Yeah," Riley replied as he gave Ben a skeptical look.

"It's with the rest of your things back in my hotel room," Ben said. At Riley's surprised face, he added, "After meeting with the lawyer, I decided to pick up your things. I decided that, either way, you weren't going back to that house, not alone. Forgive me, but I had a bad feeling." Ben got that contemplative look again. "You said your father was dying? I don't think you mentioned that before."

"He had just been diagnosed with terminal Stage 4 cancer."

"And you don't think it's a handy coincidence that he just happens to die in a car wreck first?"

"I call it good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Riley!"

Riley shrugged. "What? He deserved what he got. He was a mean, miserable spiteful bastard to me, Ben. I will not mourn the son of a bitch! You don't know what it's like to have a parent hate you, Ben. I mean, hate you to the very core of your soul. It kills you little by little until you think you don't deserve anything better, because, you have never known anything better."

Ben's eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I really am." He pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly agitated. "But, kid, don't ever put Abigail and I through this again! Don't take it out on us, because the rest of the world has seen fit to kick you around. Clue us in once in a while. We're your friends, but we're not mind readers."

"Fair enough."

A brief silence hung in the air. "So, when are we going to look for her?"

"Who?"

"Your birth mother. I can't help but feel that this is all connected. Your poisoning, the car accident, your father's untimely death and your discovery of your parentage. The timing is too coincidental otherwise, but I don't have enough pieces of the puzzle to make it fit."

Riley blinked as he looked at Ben. "We? It's not your problem. Go back to Washington. It's my responsibility to deal with my family's dirty laundry."

"Maybe, I'm just returning a favor. Maybe, I know that you will do this with or without me and I don't want to leave you alone in light of the fact that someone tried to murder you. Maybe I'm afraid that if I walk away, I will never see you alive again."

"Ben, will you stop treating me like a piece of glass. I'm really not that delicate. I can fight my own battles. Stop being the hero."

"I'm not being a hero, I'm just being concerned. Get your jaded head out of your ass and accept the fact that you don't have to face the world alone, anymore, that you have people that give a damn about what happens to you. Besides, I am just as in this as you are. I was in that car with you when that jerk hit it. We're not going to be able to simply walk away like nothing ever happened." He squeezed Riley's shoulder harder. "Just think of it as me repaying a favor. You have put yourself on the line for me more than enough. What kind of friend would I if I didn't do the same for you? So, where do we begin our search for answers, Mr. Poole?"

"Warwick, Rhode Island. My birth mother may have family there. And, Ben?"

"Yes."

Riley's mind was a jumble of emotions and gratitude, but he couldn't string the necessary words together to adequately express how he felt about Ben's loyalty. Only one word could get past the barrier that had settled deep in his throat. "Thanks."


	7. Chapter 7

**Nota Bene:**

Thank you, Ellasphere, for your help with this. I revised this so much that I lost my ability to actually comprehend what I was reading. A fresh pair of eyes can be so invaluable.

Thank you, all you kind souls who have reviewed my story, so far. Knowing that people still want to read this, inspires me to keep writing.

I apologize for this update being so overdue. This chapter was insanely difficult. I had a lot to cram into a little space. Little, because I didn't want to dwell too long on trivialities, but I felt some things needed to be mentioned. This chapter is definitely the filler.

A last minute decision involved adding a new OC. It was a direction I hedged about for a couple of months, before I bit the bullet. It is a gamble for me, as expanding the idea will require a fair bit of personal reference. It will be up to you, my readers, to determine if this gamble pays off in this and subsequent chapters.

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own National Treasure or its characters. I can only lay claim to my OCs. Y'all know who I mean.

Now, on to the story!

**Chapter Seven**

"_Say when you're alone, it's better, 'cause nobody knows you. When no one's your friend, it's better, 'cause nobody leaves you. So, you turned your back on a world that you could never have, 'cause your heart's been cracked and everyone else's is goin' mad."_

_-Jakob Dylan (The Wallflowers)_

Riley got out of Ben's rental car and took a deep breath of the frigid, fresh air. Ben had driven them to a Wal-Mart Supercenter in nearby Newington for soft food that Riley could eat and more clothes for Ben, who had only packed one outfit for his trip to Hartford.

It had been three days since Riley had woken up. Fed up with how long his stay was taking, he had signed himself out. Of course, Ben and Doctor Greene had protested, but what could either of them do? Ben's temporary power-of-attorney status had dissolved automatically once Riley had awakened from his coma and the hospital couldn't hold a sane adult against his will. He still wasn't eating regular meals, because his stomach was still a bit touchy, but beef broth and nondescript mush were a step above the IV that had been disconnected two days prior.

He had met with his father's lawyer the day after waking up. The timing was at the lawyer's insistence and Riley was actually relieved to get it over with. The meeting with Attorney Statten had taken a mere ten minutes, just long enough to go over the will and sign off on the necessary paperwork while Ben signed as a witness. Ten minutes was all it took for Riley to receive an estate worth enough to ensure he would never again have to worry about money.

No, he couldn't palm it off on the city of Hartford, because of a specific clause in the will. He was stuck with it, whether he liked it or not.

At the moment he signed his name on the dotted line and Attorney Statten left, Riley expected all Hell to break loose. However, nothing happened. His stay in the hospital was uneventful, a far cry from the events that had landed him there in the first place.

Each passing minute made Riley more nervous. He had tried to find answers by hacking into the Harford PD database, once Ben had been kind enough to go back to his hotel room to retrieve his laptop, but that had proven unsuccessful. He found there was a basic file opened, for protocol's sake, but the case had already been classified as cold. How could the case be dormant after a mere six days and when no one had even interviewed him? He could name would-be murderer! That had to mean something!

"Coming?" Ben asked, startling Riley from his reverie.

He followed Ben inside the massive store, letting his mind wander as they perused the aisles. It didn't take long for his mind to start to meander as well.

It chilled him to the bone that Burton had tried to poison him. The man had practically raised him the first part of his life. He had taken Riley to school on his first day of kindergarten, served Riley all his meals and acted as his father's advocate on birthdays and Christmases. What did that all mean, now? Why go through the motions all these years, only to kill him anyway? He must have known all along that Riley would inherit the estate, someday. He could have gotten him out of the way years ago. What was so special about now?

As if to rub salt in the deep, festering wound, he was still no closer in the search for his biological mother. He had combed through every people search database in existence on the Internet. Also, he had hacked into Social Security records for help. After all that searching, he was only able to come up with one other possible relative, a Michael Greenburg. Also, he had discovered via the Social Security records that his other potential relative, Doris Greenburg, had passed away, leaving Michael as his only contact. Riley had tried to call him from his hospital bed, to no avail. Michael Greenburg's phone number seemed to be in service, but the phone just rang incessantly. After the third attempt to call the probable relative, he had slammed the phone down in disgust.

"We need to try and see him in person," he'd said to Ben.

"Riley, you don't even know this guy is really your relation. Besides, I don't think you're well enough to go traipsing all over the country. You need your rest."

"You are here to help me, not smother me. There will be plenty of time for rest when this sorry mess is resolved," Riley said through gritted teeth. "Now, this is going to play one of two ways. If you are so concerned about my welfare, you won't have a problem driving me to West Warwick. Otherwise, I will rent a car and drive myself while you busy yourself catching the first flight home, because it will be obvious that your concern and promises of help are merely empty words. "

Ben had looked at Riley, ire burning in his eyes, but he reluctantly relented. He muttered something about how Abigail would crucify him if Riley ended up in the hospital again.

Well, Riley reasoned, Abi would have to take a number, because he was ready to kill Ben, himself. Each passing day, made him more impatient with his friend's overprotective, wet blanket attitude. He strongly missed his independence and privacy. He had been alone so long that to have someone hover over him constantly was too much.

The trouble was that Ben hadn't left his side since he woke up, except to nab Riley's laptop and duffel bag from his hotel room, grab a brief shower and nab the occasional snack from the hospital's vending machine. Even then, Ben had asked hospital security to sit with Riley until he returned.

"Someone needs to be here in case anyone else tries to come after you," he had said, "and the Hartford P.D. seem loathe to do their job."

If it wasn't bad enough that Ben thought Riley needed babysitting at the age of thirty, there were the increasing number of awkward moments, mostly consisting of stilted attempts at conversation as they tried to catch up on the trivialities of their respective lives. All they served were to remind Riley that he had missed out on a lot over the last six months and his own life seemed like it was stuck in an eternal stall pattern.

Ben and Abigail were planning to start a family. Riley had lost his girlfriend four months earlier. They definitely sat on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as settling down was concerned.

Covert plans had started regarding Page 47 and it looked like Ben would soon be swept off on another hunt for a historical find. Riley had tried to write another book, but a nasty combination of writer's block and lingering disappointment concerning his first book hindered his efforts. He managed to write all of one page and that page was fairly lackluster. He ended up scrapping the idea altogether.

Riley had returned to hacking as a means to keep a roof over his head after the IRS had taken most of his finder's fee from the Cibola discovery to pay the fines his accountant had helped him accrue. Ben had been less than pleased with Riley's "profession," citing its dangers. Riley didn't like Ben's attitude and was quick to express his disgust at the hypocrisy.

"You weren't terribly concerned with my safety when I broke you into the Preservation Room or the Queen's residence." That had earned him a rather hostile glare, but it had shut Ben up.

Their truce three days earlier had seemed like the real deal, but anything could lose its luster in the cold light of day. Riley realized that he and Ben had never been together when they weren't searching for a treasure or Abigail wasn't there to run interference and that insight cast a pall over him. They had been friends for nearly five years. Sure, those years had been in bits and pieces, a few months here, a day there, another week here, but in all that time Riley and Ben had moved beyond the initial stages of friendship. Hadn't they?

_Now, stop it! This isn't exactly a normal situation and Ben is a bit out of his element, here._ However, they had certainly been in abnormal situations before and Riley remembered the friendship flowing a bit easier. It didn't help Riley's unease that Ben kept shooting him these looks; a potpourri of concern, hurt, skepticism and guilt. Riley surmised that the concern and guilt stemmed from the poisoning and the accident. The hurt, likely, was because Riley hadn't confided fully in him, yet.

Much to Riley's chagrin, Ben hadn't been wholly content with the abridged version that Riley had told of his life. While his friend had not been so uncouth as to ask direct questions, he had done plenty of hinting or baiting as Riley preferred to call it. Riley refused to bite and, try as he might, Ben couldn't quite hide his disappointment and frustration each time.

The apparent skepticism, however, threw him for a loop. Ben had said he believed his story at the coffee shop. In the six days since, had Ben changed his mind about the situation and Riley? He didn't want to think about it. Instead, he clung to a hope that since no such problem had been voiced, no such problem existed. Yes, it was childish beyond measure, but it saved whatever shred of sanity that Riley still managed to grasp on to. He would never admit it out loud, but if Ben were to suddenly turn his back on him, it would destroy him.

Riley felt it wasn't a question of if the other shoe would drop, but when. When Ben and Abigail inevitably came to the conclusion that he was too much to bear, how would he know? Maybe, everyone would just go their separate ways, again, only Ben and Abigail would just keep going next time.

_Stick to the plan. Ben will be miffed, even irate, but he can build a bridge and get over it._ _He has more important things to worry about, anyway. Don't make him bear the brunt of all your drama, too. Remember what happened the last time you unloaded on someone? She couldn't leave fast enough! Don't make that mistake, again. You can't afford another blow like that one._

"Riley!"

Riley snapped to attention in time for Ben to thrust a can in his face. "What's that?"

"It's corned beef hash. It's soft enough that I think your stomach will be able to handle it."

Riley wrinkled his nose as he looked at the picture on the can. "It looks like dog food. Did the FDA really approve that stuff? Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised to find it on a recall list in the near future. You know, Abi might not be so thrilled that you're trying to feed me Alpo."

"She won't be thrilled to learn you signed yourself out of the hospital, either. She'll be so busy chewing you out, she won't have an ounce of sympathy for your dietary dilemma."

"Touché."

Ben put several cans of the vile-looking food in the shopping cart. He'd already picked up two cases of water, soup, a few cans of creamed corn and a large jar of applesauce. Riley hadn't had much say in the matter and his annoyance with Ben grew. Unfortunately, his friend didn't seem to know or care that he was crossing a very fine line. Riley had to get away from Ben before he did something desperate, like, wrap his hands around his friend's neck. His opportunity came when they reached the Men's Apparel department.

"I'll be in Electronics."

"Riley, I don't think it's safe for us to separate."

Riley took a deep breath to quell the temper that threatened to erupt and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Unless you planned on having me follow you into the dressing room, we were going to be separated, anyway. Besides, if you need help dressing yourself, I'm sure Abi will be able to coach you via phone. I suspect she's been choosing your clothes as of late, anyway." With that he turned on his heel and walked briskly in the direction of the Electronics department, not bothering to see what reaction he had elicited from Ben.

Riley was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he was, indeed, alone. He took his time browsing through the aisles in search of a replacement I-Pod. He had left his in D.C. In fact, he hadn't realized his mistake until he was on the plane. Not only did he lack an effective way of tuning Ben out, but his tunes had always provided solace when the stress of his life got to be too much. They were like nonjudgmental friends, something that humans could never be despite their best intentions.

He browsed the selection of devices displayed before him. He compared the players displayed and discovered a 64-gigabyte IPod Touch. Deciding that this was even better than the 32-byte version he currently possessed, he turned to leave the aisle, planning to hunt down an associate who could retrieve the item from the locked display case.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, ready to tell Ben off for hovering over him, only to find himself face-to-face with someone he didn't immediately recognize.

"Well, Ryerson, long time no see," said the man. He was tall, about Ben's height with dirty blonde hair. He had piercing gray eyes that seemed to look right through Riley, but it was the smarmy smile that sent chills down his spine.

Riley couldn't put his finger on it, but something seemed vaguely familiar about the man. A memory tried to surface, but it was dreamlike, intangible. Maybe he imagined possibly knowing this person. He had sustained a rather nasty bump to the head in the car accident. While medical tests hadn't revealed any damage, it could have knocked around his synapses a bit.

The man's smile seemed to fade, but his gray eyes remained sharply focused on Riley. "You don't seem to remember me."

Riley shook his head, but the nagging familiarity dogged him. "Sorry, I don't. Have we met?"

"It's me, Louis Dawson. Remember, I worked on your father's estate for a summer when you were a kid. Think hard. I know you can recall, though, I admit we didn't part on the best of terms." The hand returned to Riley's shoulder and ran down the length of his arm in an intimate gesture.

Riley's blood froze as his eyes widened. He felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head and he backed away from Louis' reach. His mind reeled, dizzyingly, as other, long-buried memories clawed their way to the surface. Breathing became insanely difficult and his knees shook convulsively. He gripped the edge of the display to steady himself.

"What is it?" The question was not one of concern, but there was a distinctly snide tinge to it. Dan stepped closer to Riley and placed a hand on the small of Riley's back, rubbing it in large circles.

Riley shook off the offending gesture. "Don't touch me!" he hissed. The IPod forgotten, he turned and nearly sprinted back to Men's Apparel where he hoped Ben was waiting for him.

The cart lay outside the fitting room, but there was no sign of Ben. Obviously, he was still inside. Riley's breath caught in his throat. They had to leave. Now! He felt a touch on his shoulder and he jumped.

"That was rude of you to just run off. We have so much to catch up on."

"Like Hell we do," Riley said, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the old feeling of intimidation. He backed off several paces. "Just stay away from me."

"Now, Ryerson, that's no way to treat an old friend," Louis said as he inched closer to Riley.

"What's going on here?"

Riley felt relief course through him and he released a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding as he looked in the direction of the fitting room. Ben stood in the doorway, with some clothes draped over his arm and skepticism clearly defined on his face. He looked at Riley for a long moment, his gaze resting on Riley's eyes. When Ben looked at Louis, the doubtful look grew immeasurably.

"Oh, I'm just an old friend. Louis Dawson," he said as he extended a hand to the approaching Ben. "And you would be?"

Ben returned the handshake, warily. "Ben Gates. I'm Riley's friend."

Louis regarded Ben with a condescending smirk, then turned to Riley. "Still into the older guys, I see."

Riley's breath caught in his throat and his blood chilled. _Shit._ He could feel Ben's curious expression and shuddered at the revolting thoughts that had to be running through his friend's head." I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to sound nonchalant as he quaked on the inside. He wanted to be anywhere, but here, right now. In fact, if the floor could just open up and swallow him, that would be wonderful.

Thankfully, Ben didn't probe Riley for questions. Instead he turned back to Louis. "Pardon me, but it didn't look or sound like you two were all that friendly."

Louis' creepy smile faltered for a second time. "Yes, well, it's been a long time. For your information, Ryerson and I go way back. I take it he never told you about us." Louis winked at Riley, a predatory look in his eyes.

Riley's stomach churned and he could feel Ben's questioning eyes boring a hole in his skull. He had to get out of there. He cleared his throat. "You know, Ben, I hate to break up this happy reunion, but I'm not feeling so good." It wasn't a lie. He was seriously close to vomiting up his hospital breakfast of gray slop.

"I must be going, anyway," Louis said, glaring sideways at Ben. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Ryerson." He advanced toward Riley who instinctively stepped back.

"I cannot say I feel the same," Riley said, coldly.

Louis gave him a venomous sneer before turning on his heel and walking out of the clothing department. A moment later, Ben's concerned face loomed into his line of vision.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, perfect. Why do you ask?" Riley hoped he was able to keep the shaking from his voice.

"You're pale as a ghost and you're shaking so bad, you look like you're going to keel over on me."

Riley shook his head. "I'm just tired. Are you finished here?"

"Yeah," Ben said, looking unconvinced as he tossed the garments into the cart. "Let's forget our road trip, today. You need to rest."

Riley shook his head. "No, we should continue on to West Warwick as planned. I can get some rest when we get back to the hotel tonight."

"I don't think-," Ben started.

Riley cut him off. "I don't care what you think, because it's not your decision to make!" he said, a bit louder than he intended. Several patrons stopped and stared at them. Riley lowered his voice. "I just want to get this over with. The sooner I do, the sooner I can go home. Please, can we just get out of here?"

Ben nodded, silently. The tense silence followed them to the checkout and eventually to the parking lot. When they reached Ben's white, rental sedan, Ben unlocked the car and motioned for Riley to get in, which he did. Ben loaded the bags in the trunk and, leaving the cart in the adjacent space, climbed into the driver's seat. He put the key in the ignition, but he didn't start the car.

Riley felt his friend's eyes on him. He braced himself, mentally, for the Benjamin Franklin Gates equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition.

"Tell me, who was that guy? How do you know him?"

Riley sighed. He guessed that the time for subtlety was over. Now, Ben was going to hit him with the direct questions when it was the worst possible time to do so. "Nobody, just some guy that worked as my father's grounds keeper a long time ago. I barely remember him."

"I saw your eyes. You were scared of him."

"You were imagining things."

"I need to know if this guy is someone we should worry about in our current situation."

Riley shook his head. "No, no, I don't think so. He didn't even work for my father that long. He certainly didn't have anything to gain from the estate." _Please, Ben, just stop with the questions, already!_

"What did he mean about you not telling me about the two of you? Were you," Ben seemed to stumble over the words, "involved at some point? I mean, I never figured you to be-."

"No, I'm not and we weren't!" Riley practically shouted. Breathing became difficult again and the nausea increased tenfold. How could Ben possibly go there? _Oh yeah_, the rational facet of his mind reasoned, _you never told Ben about this little part of your life._ "Seriously, if you keep this up, I'll vomit in your car and you'll lose your deposit."

"Then, what did he mean? If you weren't involved with him, what was it?"

"Ben, please, just drop it!" Riley yelled. "Christ, for once in your life, shut up and drop it! You don't need to know!"

Ben's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened a little at Riley's uncharacteristic outburst, but he didn't say any more on the matter. He regained his composure and started the car, driving slowly through the parking lot to the main road.

As they merged onto I-91, Riley felt like the tense stillness was choking him, but talking to Ben was not high on his list of most desired things to do. He would only continue to grill him about the scene in the store and he couldn't go there, ever. No, he just wanted to sweep it all back under the rug and focus his strength on finding answers to his current dilemma.

Yet, the old memories wouldn't let him have his way. They regaled his psyche with traumatizing images that were suddenly crystal clear. It was during times like this that he truly abhorred his excellent memory. Why couldn't he suffer from a stress-induced amnesia like a normal person?

Riley forced his brain to switch gears, but as the doubt immediately infiltrated his mind, he almost regretted that action. What would he find in West Warwick? Would he find a family or would he be rejected again? If he was rejected, how would he handle that? He felt the butterflies multiply in his stomach and his earlier threat of throwing up in the car seemed like it would become reality.

He swallowed thickly and he risked a glance at Ben. The shock was gone from his friend's face, replaced by something that resembled ire. Riley looked away. He hadn't meant to yell like he did. He hadn't angry, but fearful. Fearful that when Ben found out everything that had made him who he now was, that he would exit stage left, like everyone else. Then, he wouldn't belong anywhere, with anyone. Again.

And that was a concept that Riley couldn't risk coming to fruition.


	8. Chapter 8

**Nota Bene:**

Yes, it's true! Two updates in as many weeks. I wish I could always update this frequently, but that pesky life thing keeps getting in my way.

Thank you, Ellasphere, for your invaluable critique. Also, as always, thank you to the kind souls who have submitted reviews. They're such pick-me-ups, especially after a hard day.

**Disclaimer:**

Disney owns their characters and I own mine. Enough said.

I cannot take credit for the lyrics to "Loser." That distinction belongs to Beck.

On to the story!

**Chapter Eight**

"_Things were never easy for me. Peace of mind was hard to find and I needed a place where I could hide. Somewhere I could call mine."_

_-Phil Collins (Genesis)_

It was only a two-hour road trip. Riley had to keep reminding himself of that fact as he stared at the window at the blurring scenery. He had long since turned his laptop on and had opened up his media player, the loud rock music cutting a slice through the silence. However, it did little to soothe his frazzled nerves. He wished he could just get this meeting over with. The aftermath of his argument with Ben only heightened his anxiety.

_Note to self: Don't have a yelling match with your best friend before sitting in an enclosed space with him for a prolonged period of time. _

"You think you could turn that music down a bit?" Ben had to shout to be heard above the din. "It is my rental car, after all."

In response, Riley turned up the volume control as far as it would go. Ben just shot him an exasperated look. "Was that really necessary?"

Having proven his point, Riley turned the volume back down to an acceptable level. "It's soul soothing."

"It sounds like this guy is drunk and rambling. The lyrics are absurd, nonsensical. Hardly soul soothing."

Riley didn't have the patience for Ben's lack of understanding and he snapped a little harsher than he intended, "Just shut up for a second and listen before you pass judgment."

_"Forces of evil on a bozo nightmare,_

_Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber._

_'Cause one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag,_

_One's on the pole, shove the other in a bag._

_With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job._

_The daytime crap of the folksinger slob._

_He hung himself with a guitar string._

_A slab of turkey neck and it's hangin' from a pigeon wing._

_You can't write if you can't relate._

_Trade the cash for the beef, for the body, for the hate._

_And my time is a piece of wax fallin' on a termite,_

_That's chokin' on the splinters." _

"I'm sorry. I just can't get past his incoherent muttering to find any meaning in there."

"Forgive me for not having the foresight to arrange _my_ musical choices on _my_ computer to suit _your_ taste." Riley turned his computer off and reached around to put it on the backseat.

"You didn't have to do that." Ben sounded a bit sad. Maybe, he was guilty.

"Yeah, I did. You kind of killed my enjoyment of it. You know, you are just old enough to be completely hopeless." Riley returned his attention to the fascinating scenery outside his window. He sighed, again, counting the minutes until he didn't have to be trapped in this car anymore. _Thank you, Ben, for reminding me why I had wanted that I-Pod in the first place._

After what felt like an eternity, Ben turned onto the exit that would take them to Route 117. From there, it was a short trip to West Warwick. Riley kept his eyes peeled for Michael Greenburg's residence. On the outskirts of town, he saw a mailbox with the name Greenburg painted sloppily on the side. It flanked the edge of a driveway that disappeared behind a line of trees.

"Turn at the next left," Riley said and Ben turned into the dirt driveway.

Ben stopped the car at the end and they looked out the windshield at the building he had pulled up to. Building was a subjective term. It was an old trailer, barely sufficient as a dwelling. Riley swallowed, envisioning a gun-toting psychopath on the other side of the small, metal door.

As if reading his thoughts, Ben spoke up. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Riley nodded emphatically, wishing he felt half as confident on the inside. They got out of the car. Riley's knees shook as they walked up to the front door. He could hear music blaring as he approached. It sounded like '60s folk rock. Riley liked a bit of it as he found it relaxing and he recognized the song from his own playlist. _Mr. Tambourine Man_. It was hardly relaxing at this decibel level, though. He had to pound on the door to be heard above the din.

The music stopped, abruptly, and the door swung open, revealing a rather burly man with long, dark hair colored with streaks of gray pulled back into a ponytail. _Jesus, this guy looks like a bouncer!_

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Uh – my name is Riley Poole. Are you Michael Greenburg?"

Michael's eyes narrowed. "That's my name, but I don't know you!" he started to close his door.

"Wait!" Riley cried as he stuck out his hand to stop the door from shutting completely. "Are you related to a Marjorie Greenburg?"

The door swung open again and Michael reappeared, grabbing Riley by the collar of his jacket. "That's my sister, but I ain't seen her in more than thirty years. What do you want with her?"

"Hey, take it easy!" Ben shouted.

Riley gulped. "She's my mother."

Michael looked at him long and hard. Suddenly, he released Riley, his eyes widening. Riley would have fallen off the step had Ben not caught him.

"Jesus Christ, you look just like her!"

Riley glanced back at Michael, nervously. He looked like he would have a heart attack or something. But, he recovered his wits and gestured for the two of them to step inside.

"Make yourselves comfortable. I'm afraid all I've got to offer you is Budweiser or tap water that isn't fit for pigs. And, I don't mean the animal."

"I'm fine. Thanks," Riley said as he sat down. Ben just raised an eyebrow, but politely declined the offer as he sat down next to Riley.

"Suit yourself," Michael said as he retrieved a beer from his mini fridge and sat down in a worn recliner.

"I couldn't help, but hear the music you were playing. It's one of my favorites." Riley hoped he sounded as casual as he thought he did. It might have been a lame ice breaker, but it was all he could come up with at the moment.

"It was Marjie's, too. She used to sing it to you, sometimes," Michael replied wistfully. For a moment, his mind was lost somewhere far away. Then, he blinked and focused his blue eyes on Riley. "So, what brings you here?"

"I tried to call-."

"I don't talk on the phone. You never know who's listening in, if you know what I mean. So, what was so damned pressing that you just had to see me?"

"My father died recently." Riley ignored the older man's contemptible snort as he continued. "Before he died, he wrote me a letter telling me that my birth mother was a Marjorie Greenburg. I've tried to find her whereabouts, with no success."

"So, you came here to see if I have any idea where she is. Well, I'm sorry, kid, but I haven't seen my baby sister in years. My guess is that you won't find her alive. I also guess that the son of a bitch you called a father had something to do with it."

Riley winced at the cold bluntness of his uncle's words. However, to imply that his father had anything to do with her death brought it all to a whole new level that he didn't want to comprehend. He shuddered as his insides turned to ice.

"That asshole used her, you know," Michael continued, oblivious to Riley's shock. "He dated her for nearly a year. We all tried to tell her that she was making a big mistake, getting in over her head, but she was taken with him. Then, she got pregnant. Our parents were real traditional, especially Dad. He kicked her out. Mom didn't do a thing to stop it. I took Marjie in until you were born, but she couldn't shake the idea of Ryerson Landley II." Michael spat out the name as though it were laced with bile. "She was damned determined that he would know about you, that he would want you as a son and, by some measure, he would also accept her as a wife. I tried to make her see some sense, but she wouldn't let it go."

Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, saddened. "I know it was hard for her. She was a young, single mother with no means to support a kid. I had my own demons, then, too, what with the drugs I was using at the time. I couldn't take her fantasies anymore and I kicked both of you out. That was the last time I saw either of you until now."

The last part was said with such contempt that Riley winced. He felt Ben's hand on his shoulder, but his shock didn't abate. It was a lot to take in and he swallowed hard. "Did she mention where she was going?"

"She went on and on about The Vineyard. Marjie said that he finally wrote back to her and wanted to meet her there. I knew she was setting herself up again. I told her forget about him and try to build a better life for herself and you, but she wouldn't hear of it. I couldn't bear to stand by as he cast her aside again." Michael downed the remainder of his beer and walked over to a bookshelf. He plucked a small box from one shelf and rummaged through it. After a minute, he plucked a photograph from it and handed it to Riley.

"You should have this," he said.

Riley took the proffered photograph. His heart stood still when he looked at it. It was old and yellowed, but the woman was clearly his birth mother. She grinned, holding a tiny baby in her arms. Him.

"I took that right before she left. You may as well have it as I can't bear to look at it or you. You are just a reminder of what I failed to protect. You know, my sister's life ended for you. She was only nineteen. She deserved better than that."

Riley felt his face drain of color. For a second Michael sounded so much like his father. _"Your mother killed herself, because of you."_

"Look, I-I-," Riley began.

"You what? Did you think that by coming here, I would automatically accept you as my blood? Did you think we would be one, big, happy family and the last thirty years would somehow be forgotten?"

Riley felt deflated. "Yeah, something like that."

As if someone flipped an invisibleswitch, Michael's mood went from melancholy to enraged. "What do you want from me? You might be my sister's kid, but you are still half the son of a bitch that ruined her. You are nothing to me! Nothing! Get out!"

"What?" Bewildered, Riley glanced at Ben who regarded Michael with a look of utter contempt.

"Get out of here!" Michael sneered as he advanced toward Riley. He grabbed Riley's arm and yanked him off the couch. In an instant, Ben was on his feet and his fist connected with Michael's face hard enough to break his nose. Michael staggered, but he didn't fall. Instead, he regarded Riley and Ben with a murderous glare as he cupped a hand over his bloody nose.

"You asshole!"

"Keep your hands off him!" Ben shouted. He reached out and gripped Riley's shoulder in an attempt to steer him out the door, but Riley shook him off.

Riley lagged behind as they walked back to the car. As the significance of what had just happened sunk in, a lump formed in his throat. Again, human nature had proved him right. Again, he didn't belong anywhere or to anybody. He reached the car, but instead of getting in, he leaned against the frame and put a hand over his eyes. What was he doing here? What was he trying to prove?

"How are you doing?" Ben asked softly.

"I'm so happy, I'm shitting rainbows. How do you think I'm doing?" Riley replied bitterly. He was as far from okay as he could possibly be, but he wasn't going to let Ben see that.

_Stick to the plan._

He felt Ben's hand on his shoulder again, but he sidestepped his friend. He was beyond angry, but he couldn't decide who he was angry at. Ben just happened to be convenient. "Who do you think you are to punch him like that? It was clear he was a few bricks short of a load! You didn't have to break his nose for it!"

"I didn't like his attitude toward you. Who in Hell blames a baby for a woman's disappearance?"

Riley paused with his hand on the handle. He couldn't take it anymore. "I can deal with it, Ben! Can't you get that? Please, stop with your inane heroics, already!"

"I can't help it!" Ben shouted back. Riley saw the worry, the absolute helplessness in his eyes and he gulped back a bit of his temper. "Ever since I set foot in Hartford, Connecticut, I have seen you unravel bit by bit from this madness. I have been there for every nightmare since you woke up from your coma. I don't care how much you try to convince me that this isn't bothering you, because you're only human and it _has_ to bother you. I can't stand being on the sidelines like some kind of Goddamned spectator! I feel like I should be doing something!"

"You're doing enough," Riley said softly. "You're still here, despite everything. That's all you need to do."

Ben nodded, looking uncertain. He walked over to the drivers' side and climbed in. Riley followed suit. Ben started the car drove slowly back to the main road.

Riley glanced at his friend, who looked like he was mulling something over. "A penny for your thoughts?"

"I can't help, but think that the story of your parents' meeting was a bit strange. Why would your birth mother need to go to Martha's Vineyard in the dead of autumn to see your father? Why couldn't she meet him at your family home?"

Riley shrugged. "They met on Cape Cod. Maybe there was some place that meant something to them. Who knows?"

Ben's eyes lit up, much in the same fashion as when he had an a-ha moment. "What about your vacation home?"

"What about it?"

"It's on the Vineyard, right?"

"Yeah, right on the beach." Riley was silent for a moment as the realization hit him. "The next clue to this sordid mess is there."

"Check ferry schedules for Cape Cod. We should head up there as soon as possible."

Riley stared indignantly at Ben. "It isn't insulting enough that you beat up my relatives, but, now, you're going to bark orders at me?"

Ben had the grace to look embarrassed. "I mean, please, look up the ferry schedule for Cape Cod."

"Much better." Riley retrieved his laptop from the backseat and tried to piggyback a wireless signal, to no avail. He scowled.

"I'm not getting anything, here."

"We should be in the Providence city limits, soon. Try again, then."

Riley tapped his fingers anxiously as Ben drove. Once near Providence, Riley tried again to acquire a signal. Successful, he quickly typed in a Cape Cod ferry schedule query and frowned at the result. "There's only one ferry to the Vineyard and it leaves the mainland late tomorrow morning. We'll have to get an early start."

"I would rather just go up there and get it over with, even if we have to sleep in the car, tonight."

"It can wait until tomorrow. You are barely out of the hospital and excess travelling, plus a cold night in a car won't do you any favors. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to alert Sadusky to what is going on here."

"Isn't this a bit out of his jurisdiction?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to have friends in high places. We're in uncharted territory and this whole situation seems to be taking a dire turn. Maybe he can light a fire under the asses of the Hartford PD concerning your case and alert authorities on Cape Cod if need be.

"Maybe." He rubbed his eyes. The events of the day were catching up with him

Ben noticed it, too. "Why don't you catch a nap? It's a long ride back."

"Sounds like a plan." Riley turned off his laptop and returned it to the backseat and settled into his seat, his head resting between the seat and the car's frame. He watched the scenery blur past him, hypnotizing him. His eyelids drooped and he dropped into a deep sleep.

_The incessant dripping was the first thing to get his attention._

_He was back in that bathroom. The same white walls, the lone ceiling light and the usual diminutive perspective like he was looking up at everything as though he was sitting on the floor. He approached the tub on wobbly legs, knowing the sight that awaited him, but knowing that his body would keep moving no matter how much he resisted._

_He looked up and his breath hitched. It wasn't his mother in the tub, but his birth mother. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle, like her neck had been broken. Her dark hair hung limply over the side of the tub and her deep, blue eyes stared vacantly. It was then that Riley noticed that the source of the dripping noise wasn't water, but blood. _

_He gasped and drew away from the tub. Blood ran down the side and pooled on the floor around his feet. _

_He was grabbed by the shoulders from behind and roughly spun around. His heart seized in his chest as he beheld the gargantuan form of his father, flanked on either side by Louis and Michael._

"_None of this would have happened if it weren't for you!" Michael yelled. Riley backed away as the men advanced. _

"_You know you can trust me. Come on! I have something to show you." Louis extended his hand, but Riley only drew back further. He gasped as he backed against the bathtub and found himself almost nose-to-nose with his birth mother's corpse._

"_You don't belong to anyone but me! You shall never escape!" his father screamed as he raised a meaty hand to strike him._

_Then, strangely, the temperature in the room plummeted and gunpowder replaced the blood at his feet…_

_He was on The Charlotte. It was so cold he could see his breath. The chill cut through to his bones, but he attributed his uncontrollable shivering to the scene playing out before him. He observed, with dread and trepidation welling up inside him, as Ben and Ian faced off and Shaw had his gun drawn. _

_"Tell me what I need to know, Ben, or I'll shoot your friend." Shaw whipped the gun in Riley's direction._

_"Hey!"_

_"Quiet, Riley! Your job is finished here!"_

_Riley grabbed on to the rope as though the fibers could act as a shield strong enough to stop the bullet from ripping through his flesh. He stared at Ian and Shaw, stunned. He had helped them, done all the work. Now, they wanted him out of the picture. It was the story of his life, only this time, it had a deadlier outcome. _

_Ben laughed scornfully. "Really, Ian, if you want the information, you're going to have to scrounge up a better bargaining chip than Riley!"_

_Stunned, Riley could only stare at Ben for his callous remark. "B-Ben, you can't be serious! I h-helped you. I got you what you w-wanted." He swallowed thickly, feeling like someone socked him in the gut. _

_Ben laughed, again, the malevolent sound sending shivers up Riley's spine. "What does that matter, now? You're dead weight." Ben turned back to Ian, stepping aside. _

"_He's all yours. Do what you will"_

"_Very well, then," Ian sneered, coldly. Too coldly. He nodded his head slightly and Shaw fired at point blank range straight at Riley's heart. He fired..._

Riley awoke, screaming. A sudden lurch to the left, screeching tires and angry horns did nothing to alleviate his disorientation.

"Jesus!" Ben shouted frantically. There was a pause as the car stopped swerving. "Riley, are you all right?"

Riley panted as he looked around. He was still in the car and it was dark. Slowly, reality returned to him, but the vivid imagery of the dream remained in his mind, especially the coldness exuded by his so-called friend.

The car slowed as it coasted to the right. Riley realized that Ben was pulling onto the shoulder of the highway. The car stopped and Riley heard the ignition being cut. Then, the overhead light came on. Blinded, Riley shielded his eyes with his hand.

"Could you warn a guy when you do that?"

"Sorry," Ben said.

Riley lowered his hand and opened his eyes. Ben stared at him, his eyes wide and his face pale. "What's with you?" he asked, his voice flat.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. What did you just dream about, because you nearly scared me off the road? Don't you dare tell me it was nothing."

"I really don't want to talk about it." _Save your concern._

"Damn it!" Ben reached over and grabbed Riley's shoulders. "Stop this! Stop shutting me out! I'm trying to help you, damn it! For three days, whenever I have tried to dig beneath that wall you insist on wearing, you just build it up more and drive me off with stinging barbs and sarcastic comments." He let go of Riley and ran a hand through his hair. "Why can't you just tell me what's going on? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said, his insecurity again morphing into wrath. "I just value my privacy and you are overstepping your boundaries."

"My boundaries?" Ben sputtered, indignantly. "I'm your best friend!" He slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, inadvertently sounding the horn. "If this is how you have acted every time someone ever tried to get to know you, it's no small wonder why you have spent most of your life alone."

Riley shrank back in his seat as he absorbed what Ben had just said. Coupled with his friend's coldness during his nightmare, it was almost too much. Riley prided himself with being able to take anything thrown at him and keep going, just like a sponge could absorb exorbitant amounts of water. Nonetheless, even sponges had their limit and he had been through a lot.

_Thank you for proving what I suspected all along. A real friend wouldn't say something so callous._

"Riley?" Ben said softly. He placed a hand on Riley's shoulder.

"Just drive," Riley said, coldly, as he crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "The sooner I am out of this car and away from you, the better off I'll be."

With remorse and guilt consuming his features, Ben said nothing more as he, again, started the car. He gunned the accelerator as he drove along the highway back to Hartford.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes from the authoress:**

Thank you, Ellasphere, for taking the time to go over this thing and point out all the little mistakes I stopped seeing on, maybe, Revision #3. LOL! Seriously, you rock!

Thank you to all of you kind people who are still reading this story and haven't given up on me, despite my woeful delay in updating. You guys rock, too!

I can't promise when the next update will occur. Chapter 10 is in its infancy and I don't have much time at home these days (new boyfriend and oodles of overtime at my job). I haven't spent a full day at home in several weeks. Rest assured that I won't forget about this story or just leave it hanging. I wouldn't have posted it here, if I hadn't intended to finish it. What would be the point of that?

**Disclaimer:**

Disney owns their characters and I own mine and all is harmonious with the universe.

_Turn, Turn Turn_ belongs to The Byrds (and, if I'm not mistaken, was inspired by The Bible). I won't presume to take credit for either.

Now for the moment y'all have been waiting for. Let the story commence! Hopefully, none of you will kill me for the direction this fic has taken.

**Chapter Nine**

"_When the night has come and the land is dark and the moon is the only light we'll see.  
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."_

_-Ben E. King_

They arrived at the hotel room a short time later. As soon as they unloaded the car, Riley grabbed his duffel bag and made a beeline for the bathroom.

"Riley-," Ben began, but he was cut off by the bathroom door being slammed in his face. Riley locked the door before Ben could do something arrogant like barge in demanding answers for his silent treatment. He couldn't deal with his friend, apparent or otherwise. He was still shaken from the dream he had. His dreams always contained an element of truth and he couldn't help but fear that it had really been a prediction of things to come.

He wished he could have gotten his own room, but Ben didn't want them to be separated. So, he was sharing the room that Ben had rented shortly after he had been admitted to the hospital. It had a king-sized bed, a sofa bed, a small kitchen area, a dining area and a living room. Not bad, but not private, either.

He turned on the shower, letting the water warm up to an acceptable level as he stripped off his clothes. Not only had washing up in the hospital bathroom's sink been woefully insufficient, he had to get every trace of this day off him, especially the horrific reunion with Louis in Wal-Mart and the rejection by his only family.

_If this is how you have acted every time someone ever tried to get to know you, it's no small wonder why you have spent most of your life alone._

Riley shuddered, in spite of the warm water washing over him. He couldn't help but realize the truth in the statement. He knew he had a hard time trusting people, but he reasoned that it wasn't wholly his fault. People had seen him as an easy mark for as long as he could remember. It had gotten to a point where he couldn't differentiate between the fair weather friends and the genuine article. Therefore, he kept everyone at arm's length. In doing so, did he actually end up pushing away people that really cared about him?

_If anyone from your past cared, they would still be in your life. You'll see. Ben will be just like everyone else. People are all alike, despite their good intentions. As you know full well, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. _

Burdened by these dark thoughts, Riley showered until the hot water started to run out. Reluctantly, he shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower stall. He toweled off and dressed quickly before the shower-generated steam could dissipate.

He stepped up to the sink and ran his hand over the mirror, clearing a swath to see his reflection clearly as he combed his hair. Man, he looked like crap! His eyes were slightly red-rimmed and he appeared pale and somewhat gaunt.

He studied his sorry reflection for a moment and a startling realization hit him. Every feature that he possessed belonged to his birth mother, except for his nose. That belonged to his father. However, there wasn't a sign that would immediately identify him with the Landley clan. His father and mother had been fair skinned and fair haired. Riley had stuck out like a sore thumb and it became apparent to him why his father had shunned him like he had. He must have been a perpetual reminder of what the old man had done.

Riley shuddered. What had his father done? The possibilities infiltrated his brain and none of them were pleasant. This had blown so far open, that Riley seriously regretted opening the door in the first place.

He sighed. As tempting as it was to stay in the bathroom and far away from Ben, Riley knew he couldn't hide in there, forever. Reluctantly, he picked up his duffel bag and unlocked the door, opening it slowly. The coolness of the main room hit him immediately and he shivered slightly. He looked around and spotted Ben in the room's kitchenette, stirring something in a pot on the stovetop. He looked like he was a million miles away, though, and the motion seemed automatic. Riley sniffed the air, smelling something acrid.

"What are you burning instead of cooking?"

Ben snapped to attention. "Shit!" He peered down in the pot, frowning. "Well, so much for the hash. I'll have to cook another can."

"Be still my beating taste buds." The sarcasm was automatic, but the sudden break in the silent treatment was by no means an indication that Riley had forgiven his friend. He padded along the carpeted floor in his stocking feet to his bed and plopped the duffel bag next to it. He frowned as he sat down on its edge.

He grabbed his laptop from the bedside table. He turned on his computer and turned on the music from his hard drive, selecting a song to drown out the tension that descended on the room. He sat cross legged on the bed, his chin on his hands and his eyes closed. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

Riley sighed, agitated and spoke through clenched teeth. "If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to dance to it."

Ben's response was a hybrid of a growl and a sigh. He was close to fed up, Riley could tell. "I was just concerned that something might be troubling you. Pardon me for forgetting that you consider any concern for your welfare to be a criminal offense. I don't know what could have come over me."

Riley looked up and blinked at Ben's uncharacteristically derisive response. Sarcastic comments were usually his territory. He took a deep breath to steady his temper and spoke as evenly as he could. "I'm fine. There is no need for you to be worried."

Ben didn't respond and Riley again turned his attention back to his laptop, drumming his fingers on the bed in time to the song.

"_To everything, turn, turn, turn._

_There is a season, turn, turn, turn._

_And a time to every purpose under heaven._

_A time to be born,_

_A time to die._

_A time to plant,_

_A time to reap._

_A time to kill,_

_A time to heal._

_A time to laugh,_

_A time to weep."_

"I never would have pegged you as a Byrds fan."

Riley hissed through clenched teeth. He was sending out every leave me alone vibe he possessed and Ben refused to take a hint. He didn't answer and he heard his friend emit another sigh.

"You still look tired."

_He just keeps on trying at that awkward conversation, doesn't he?_ "Yeah, I feel tired, too. What an amazing coincidence that is! I feel like doing a little happy dance, because that coincidence is just so astounding!" For effect, Riley clapped his hands and bopped around on the bed, still retaining his sitting position.

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

"I found it hilarious." Riley's eyes hadn't left his computer screen.

Riley heard the bed springs creak as Ben sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn't have to look at his friend to know he was watching at him. "Keep staring. I might do a trick."

Ben sighed. "I'm just trying to read between the lines."

Riley blinked as he finally looked up from the laptop. Outwardly, he kept himself composed, but, inwardly, his hackles were raised. "What, pray tell, are you talking about?"

"Riley, I know you're not fine. When are you going to drop this act? I hate to break it to you, but you are a card carrying member of the human race. It isn't shameful to let yourself feel something."

Riley laughed, the scorn dripping off the usually happy sound like water. "Wow, that's rich!" He turned back to his laptop. "Seriously, my life is my problem. You wouldn't even know where to start to help me with my crap, so don't go there. Don't treat me like I'm one of your puzzles to solve"

Ben reached over and hit the power button to Riley's laptop, shutting the device off mid-lyric. He yanked the computer out of reach before Riley had a chance to react and put it on his bed. "God damn it, Riley, I'm not trying to treat you like a puzzle! I'm trying to make you see that you don't have to shoulder everything alone, anymore. I'm sorry, but it's an unfortunate side effect of having people in your life who care about you."

"Look, I appreciate that you care and all, but I don't do the whole opening up thing. There are certain things about me that I prefer to keep mine, like my thoughts and my memories, such as they are. You haven't needed to know in the last five years. Don't act now like it's a huge deal."

Ben blinked at the implied insult and Riley swore he saw guilt flash through his eyes for a brief second. "I wanted to get to know you, but I didn't know how to approach it. However, that doesn't mean I haven't wondered. I've been trying to guess what you could have experienced that would have left you so loathe to get close to anyone." Ben snorted and shook his head. "For all my imagining, I must say that you having grown up in such an elite environment certainly never crossed my mind." Ben marched over to the coffee table and picked the folder containing Riley's father's legal papers and waved it for emphasis. "For all your bitching about money over the years, I would have figured you as having grown up in the poorhouse!"

Riley bristled at the insult "So, what are you saying, Ben?" His tone implied that his friend had better be careful in how he worded his response.

Ben rambled on, oblivious to the verbal cue. "I'm saying that certain things you have said and done in the last five years have been cast under a different light and a part of me can't help but see them that way. Is it a billion dollar pipe? Is it a million dollar pipe? We came all this way for a dead end? You could have had a bigger house! Do any of these remarks ring a bell?"

Riley stiffened as an invisible knife sliced through his gut. He swallowed thickly, but couldn't bring himself to respond.

"My personal favorite was when you tried to smuggle that huge chunk of gold in your backpack while the rest of us were trying to find our way out of Cibola. Really, how did you think you were going to get that out of there, anyway? That kind of weight would have dragged you down to a watery grave. Not to mention, if Mitch had caught you trying to steal the treasure that I had promised him, he would likely have killed us all. You know, if you hadn't proven your loyalty in other ways, I might have been forced to think you only assisted me in the treasure hunts for the potential reward."

Riley laughed derisively. He was hurt, but he was fed up with Ben's black and white viewpoint on life. It was clear, then, that he had never really known him at all. If he had, he wouldn't have said something so crass. "Assisted? That's beautiful, Ben, because I thought I was helping you as a friend. Did it ever occur to you that I might have needed a little of that money to save my ass? The first time, Ian wasn't so forthcoming with that money he had promised. If you didn't notice, I was living out of my van during the final days of our search for the Templar's treasure. By Cibola, I was facing jail time if I didn't pay the IRS $6,000,000. Thankfully, the IRS considered most of my finder's fee to be an even trade. I even got to keep my home.

"So, I was right that day in the coffee shop. I was only a tool, brought in to do the dirty work, so that you, alone, could reap the reward. God forbid that I have anything to show for it, because that would be positively sinful!"

Ben finally realized what he said and he sighed defeated as his eyes drifted closed. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it, then?" Riley stared at Ben, ready to throw down, if need be. The tension had been building all week and it was time that it was finally out in the open.

"That you assisted me as in helped me. God, how do you think I meant it?"

"So, that was why you ordered me around, talked down to me? Jesus, I was your chauffer, your hacker, someone you could bark orders at like you were some domineering overlord. When it came to my thoughts, though, you couldn't be bothered with me. Even when I dropped my guard and was genuine with you that one time in front of the White House, you wouldn't even look at me much less listen to me. _Ben, if it was you trying to convince me, you'd have less evidence and I would already believe you by now._ Does that ring a bell?" He purposely mimicked the tone that Ben had just used with him. "Then, you couldn't even take my words, _my book_, on faith. You had to confirm _my_ story with Sadusky before you could condescend to believe it. You know, because not reading my book hadn't been insulting enough."

Suddenly, Ben looked deflated. He looked down at the floor. "Are you ever going to let me live down not reading your book?"

"I don't know. Are you ever going to read it?"

"No." He rushed on, not giving Riley a chance to respond. "Do you want to know why? As your friend, I do not want to be put in the position where I have to give you an honest critique. If I were to like it, you would think I only said that, because I'm your friend. If I hated it, you would be offended. It's a lose-lose situation."

Riley exhaled through his nose, his sapphire eyes ascending heavenward. "There was a third option, Ben, but you chose not to see it. You could have read my book to read it. I wasn't looking for a review worthy of the New York Times book list, but just to have your support. I mean, I have always supported you and your outlandish plans. I was looking for, maybe, a fraction of that faith in return.

Ben looked at Riley, winded. "I never thought about it that way."

"No, you didn't, because you suck at understanding people. You are an absolute freaking genius with historical facts and figures, but your people skills need work in a bad way."

Ben held out his hand. "Hi, my name is Kettle. You must be Pot."

Riley glared at him in return. "You are so hilarious. That was as funny as your implication that I only stuck by you for the money. Really, Ben, I didn't have to follow you all over the world and risk my life for money. I grew up with it and if I had wanted it that badly, I would have just stayed here in Hartford to begin with."

"You signed your name to the money without a second thought. What do you think that implies?"

Riley felt the warmth rush to his cheeks and he knew his face was beet-red. "I signed for it to be left alone! Okay, I thought maybe I would take enough to live on. That wasn't a federal offense the last time I checked! The rest of it? Who knows? There must be a charity or organization that will want it. Maybe, it would make a lovely fire. I didn't come here to claim it, because I wanted to be rich. I came here to claim it, so that I could close this chapter on my life. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

"Because, you haven't really told me why. Okay, your father treated you like dirt. I got that. Why did you take so long to leave home? Why did you go to the school he chose? Why did you decide to come here, if this legacy was what you were walking into? It doesn't add up, Riley! If you didn't want the damned money, you didn't have to take it! You could have just stayed in Washington. You could have left this behind forever, if you had just ignored it! No, don't give me the bullshit about it not being about the money, because that is all it seems to be!"

Ben tossed the inheritance folder onto Riley's bed where the contents spilled out. "Have you really looked through all that? I did, during your countless naps in the hospital when I was searching for some clue to help your ungrateful self! Deeds, bank accounts, stocks. There's about 150 years' accumulated wealth in that folder. Do you think I'm going to buy that you're going to be able to give that away? As long as it continues to accrue upon itself, it will never be spent. Your children, Hell, your grandchildren will never spend all of it! You are a very wealthy man, Mister Poole. You know, I don't care if you wanted a cut of it. To tell you the truth, you are entitled to it after what you claim to have put up with. You've paid your dues. Just be honest with me about it. Don't preach to me from your soapbox when your actions, your lifestyle choices, clearly contradict your words."

Riley stared at the papers with enough animosity that they should have burst into flames, hoping that the anger would mask the betrayal that cut at his soul. "Wow, you really know how to be a hypocrite! I didn't notice you were especially eager to turn down the finders' fees from the treasures. You have the unmitigated audacity to stand there and dress me down when you had your hand out for your share of the reward." Riley looked up, his glare matching Ben's intense gaze. "If the treasure hunts really weren't about the money, as you have claimed, you wouldn't have had a problem with walking away empty-handed."

Ben's face turned a deeper red as his eyes literally blazed. Riley couldn't remember a time he had ever seen his friend this angry and he knew he had struck a nerve. "How dare you!" he sputtered, his voice a low, angry growl.

"No, how dare you!" Riley countered. "How can you take money that really wasn't yours and still preach to me about accepting money that came to me by birthright? You can't help who you were born to, but you can certainly choose to honor a promise to find a treasure for the betterment of world history and not merely the enrichment of your wallet!" Riley narrowed his eyes and delivered the killer blow. "I'll bet you a quarter million that your grandfather is spinning in his grave as we speak."

Ben's eyes went as big as saucers and his face turned a deeper shade of scarlet, if that was possible. He marched over to Riley in one stride and punched his face, sending Riley sprawling on his back from the blow.

Riley sat up, holding his cheek. He stared at his friend with wide eyes, all traces of sardonic attitude and hostility gone from his mind. He had never seen this side to Ben. Hell, he never knew this side _existed_. He knew his remark had crossed a line, but it hadn't warranted that kind of reaction.

Had it?

As suddenly as his temper flared, Ben looked stricken, guilty. "Jesus, I don't know- I mean, I'm sor-." He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Riley. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do we keep doing this?" he asked softly. "We're supposed to be best friends. Why do I feel we're more like glorified acquaintances?

"Your perception of reality is as relative as mine," Riley muttered ruefully.

Ben regarded him curiously. "What?"

"It's all relative. I mean, all this time we've been under the impression that we're best friends. Maybe we only see it that way, because neither of us has other friends. We're only best friends by default, not because we're all that close. Our perceptions are coloring the reality."

Ben looked troubled. "I hope not. In the coffee shop you asked me what you were to me. I consider us to be friends. I just meant to be a better friend to you."

"Huh?"

"When we were in the airport in Paris, I made a promise to myself to get to know you better, you know, when we were done unraveling the mystery about my ancestor. I failed you. The mystery was solved, we found Cibola and I let us drift apart again. I'm surprised you haven't written me off long before now."

Riley shrugged. "I guess I figured that a friend who ignores you seventy-five percent of the time is better than none at all."

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

"What?" Riley asked, slightly hesitant.

"Even after people have spent a lifetime throwing you away, you still turned out to be a loyal, decent person."

"Ha!" Riley laughed, humorlessly. "Just like a dog! Yell at me, insult me and ignore me, but throw a kind word my way and I'll come back to do the whole thing again!"

"I hope that isn't how you see yourself," Ben said softly, concern and sadness etching his features.

"It's kind of hard not to, sometimes." Riley cleared his throat. "Ben, if you hadn't wanted my help to clear your ancestor's name, when would you have looked me up? Or would you have looked me up at all?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

Riley laughed, but it was devoid of humor. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Wow, you really know how to kill a moment! One minute, you're preaching to me about being my best friend and the next you're telling me that you couldn't possibly condescend to acknowledge my existence unless I'm doing the dirty work for your treasure pursuits. This isn't a time for you to sit the fence. Pick a side. Are you really my best friend or am I just a means to your end?"

"I guess that depends on you. Are you going to let me in? It's not healthy to keep stuff bottled up inside. Take it from someone who's been there. I could write a book on being the lonely person who people cast aside, so don't treat me like I don't know where you're coming from. I know it all too well."

"With one major exception, Ben. Your parents actually gave a damn about you. Even if you had no one else, you still had them. I didn't have that luxury. So, do not deign to insinuate that you know what I'm about, because you don't. "

"I'm trying, but you aren't making it easy!" Ben took a deep, calming breath. "Look, would it make it things easier if I leveled the playing field?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if I told you something about myself, the one thing that I am the most loathe to share with anyone else. In turn, to keep things on an even keel, you must do the same."

To say that Riley was uncomfortable with the idea was an understatement. He felt like he was suddenly sitting on needles. "I don't know."

"You wanted to know if we're friends or not. If we cannot trust each other on this level, then we have our answer."

Riley looked at his lap. This was the downside to friendship, he realized. Having to let people in. Having to take that risk that, once you bared all, you lost the upper hand and they could take or leave you as they pleased. "I'm not even the same person I was then. Why do you have to know?"

"Because I want to know who I have been friends with for the last five years. I want to know what has happened to make you who you are."

"Where should I start? Let's see, I honed my hacking skills as a teen when I used to wire money from my father's bank account to pay for computers and other gadgets. Or, maybe, I should tell you about the time a so-called college friend and I snuck off to go smoke joints in the local cemetery. I have to say, that if it wasn't for either of those two experiences, I wouldn't be the man I am today."

"Oh, just cut the sarcastic crap! That isn't what I meant and you know it! I want to know what happened to you. What was the one moment in your life that became the turning point that defined everything that came after?"

There was a long silence as Riley mulled it over. He knew almost everything about Ben, where he had come from and what made him who he was. Such knowledge had come with the initial job. But, Riley had made himself a mystery. He drew a long breath, hoping that it could provide him with some courage and met Ben's concerned gaze head on.

"You said you were going first, right?"

Ben nodded and ran his hand through his hair. He looked troubled. Usually so confident, he looked a bit scared. For a second, Riley almost reconsidered and let Ben off the hook, afraid to know what his friend might reveal.

"I never told you, but I wasn't the only child my parents had."

That got Riley's attention. "No, I think I would remember that."

"Abigail doesn't even know. I've never talked about it."

Riley swallowed. What had he made his friend do? What had happened to this sibling that had been so awful? "Ben-."

"It's okay, Riley," Ben said, holding up his hand. "It isn't fair of me to ask you to spill your guts if I'm not willing to do the same.

"When I was eight, Mom found out she was pregnant. Dad was between clues for the treasure and he was ecstatic at the news. They even stopped quarreling as much.

"However, I was less than enthralled at the idea of a younger sibling. In fact, I was as much a demon as I could be. I was constantly in my parents' hair about how against the whole thing I was, even though they were relentless in their insistence that I would be the best big brother. It was a role I did not want, selfish as it may sound. It's ridiculous, I know, but back then I was angry that I didn't have enough of my parents' attention. With their previous bickering and Dad always away on trips, I felt like I was constantly in the background and this newest arrival would just make a bad situation worse.

"Dad was away, researching another clue when my baby brother was born. I was the first to hold him as Mom was still unconscious from the drugs the doctor had given her. My brother looked at me with the widest blue eyes and all I could do was glare at him with all the hate I could muster. Right then and there, I wished with all my might that he didn't exist, that he would just go away."

Ben swallowed thickly and his voice shuddered as he told the nest part of his tale. "Right after the birth, my brother developed complications. He wouldn't take a bottle. The doctor's couldn't figure out why. He died when he was five days old. He never left the hospital. I blamed myself, because I felt that my hatred somehow made this happen.

"It was the final straw for my parents' marriage. They tried to hang on, but it just dissolved. Dad blamed the treasure for that and not being there when he was needed. I think it was one of the main reasons he gave up the hunt altogether.

"There was no talking about this with my parents, not that I ever had the nerve to bring this up. They buried it under the rug. In fact, they still won't say his name. I don't think they've been to his grave since the funeral. It's like he never existed."

"Jesus Christ," Riley whispered. "Ben, I'm so sorry."

"Earlier, you accused me of smothering you. I failed my brother, but I vowed I would never fail anyone else who came into my life. I guess that could translate into overprotecting those that come into my life. I took my brother for granted. I don't want to make that mistake again."

"There's no way you could help what happened. It wasn't your fault."

"I know that, now, but I'm still not proud of my actions, then."

"What was his name?" Riley asked softly

"Paul Revere Gates."

Riley made a face. "Ugh! Your family and those names! I hope you and Abi break that curse! Otherwise, your kid might grow up and try to murder you in your sleep. Then, I will be forced to testify on your child's behalf that the insane name you gave him or her drove him or her to commit such a desperate act! Or, your kid might just need intense therapy."

Ben chuckled a little. "Just for that, we are going to pick the most obnoxiously patriotic names we can think of."

"You only have yourselves to blame when the inevitable happens. By the way, what flowers do you guys want at your funeral? I mean, I assume you'll be buried together. You do everything else together."

"That's a lovely sentiment. Seriously, you might have a career writing for Hallmark."

"That was too funny for words."

There was a pause. "Are you up to telling your story?"

Riley felt every fiber of his being draw inward. "Not really. Then again, I never am."

Ben placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Take your time."

"Uh, yeah, see that's like the worst thing you could do right now." Riley shook off Ben's hand. "No offense."

Ben blinked, but drew his hand back. "None taken."

Riley drew his knees up to his chest, making himself as small on the bed as he could. If he had to do this, he would have some kind of defensive wall, just in case. He kept his eyes fixated on his knees. He couldn't look at his friend, though he could feel those light blue eyes trained on him. He was afraid to read Ben's face, afraid to see how he would react. He felt like a child, then, trapped inside a grown man's body.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He shut his mouth, frowning, thinking a moment. Again, he opened his mouth, but the words refused to come. He rubbed his forehead.

"Ben, I don't think I can," he said.

"Take your time."

Riley again tried to speak, but the invisible vice had a tenacious hold on his tongue. _Damn it!_ He made a noise that resembled a growl and he sighed in frustration.

_Just do it. Don't think about it."_

Telling himself that didn't help, either. The more he tried not to think about the details of his story, the worse the memories got. He drew a shaky breath as he looked at his best friend.

"I-I'm sorry. I just c-can't.

The expression in Ben's eyes immediately changed from concern to ire to hurt, though his face remained an unreadable wall. He looked away from Riley and stood up, clearing his throat

"I guess I should try to call Sadusky before it gets much later. Abigail's waiting to hear from me, too," he said, simply, but there was an edge to his voice. He purposely avoided eye contact. He grabbed his coat from the back of a dining chair and collected his key card and cell phone from the dining table. He left the room, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Riley sat on the bed, his knees still drawn up to his chest. Ben was obviously pissed and Riley couldn't blame him. He had just taken his friend's trust in him and thrown it right back in his face. After all his doubt of Ben's sincerity in being his friend, it was Riley who ended up being the lousy friend. How ironic.

He stretched out his legs. He briefly considered making some dinner. He hadn't eaten since his mushy breakfast in the hospital and he had to keep his strength up. However, he couldn't muster an appetite. He felt sick at the thought of the hurt in his friend's eyes. He knew he would have to make it up to him and he knew the only way he could do that was to be totally honest about his past. That was, if Ben still wanted to know.

He gathered up the papers that had been strewn across his bed. Even though he was now the owner of all these documents, he hadn't yet poured through them. Now, he couldn't avoid looking at each paper. He swallowed as his queasiness worsened. Ben had been right. There was more wealth contained within these papers than could ever be spent in one lifetime. He was the proud owner of a fortune built on hate. He felt like the punch line to a very cruel joke.

However, a particular paper caught his eye. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly dropped the stack he was holding. It was a photocopy of an article accompanied by a picture that Riley knew all too well. It was a photo of himself, Ben and Abigail taken shortly after the Templar's treasure discovery. What this doing in his father's folder among a stack of stocks, bonds and deeds?

Now, Riley knew how his father's private investigator had been able to track him down. Still, why had the old man kept the paper? It would have served no use to him after the task was done.

Riley tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he wouldn't be able to avert the tears this time. Had his father suddenly decided to give a damn about him after all these years? Why had he bothered after all the crap he had put Riley through? It was almost insulting. What was he supposed to do with that information, now?

"You son of a bitch! Why couldn't you be there when it would have counted? " Riley crumpled the papers he was holding in his fist and threw them with all the force he could muster. They fell like confetti across the end of his bed and on the floor. He picked up the remaining papers and folder and threw them. "All you cared about was your damned money, but you couldn't take it with you!"

He wasn't satiated. He flung one king-sized pillow, with no particular direction in mind. It took out his bedside lamp. The small light fixture hit the thinly carpeted floor, hard. The shade and light bulb shattered.

"Did you really think it mattered that you cared at the end? You only hated me my whole worthless life! Why did you ever bother with me at all!" He threw the other king-sized pillow, taking out Ben's lamp.

"I hope you're burning in Hell!" He wrenched the alarm clock's cord from the wall and hurled it. The device broke apart as it hit the far wall and left a fair-sized dent in its wake.

Out of projectiles within an arm's reach and spent from his outburst, the tears fell. He buried his face in his hands and let himself go. He stayed like that for a while as every pent-up emotion broke free. A part of him was glad that Ben couldn't see him break down like this, but another part of him had never felt so alone. He wished he hadn't been so determined to drive his friend away.

His cell phone rang, a heavy rock and roll riff cutting through the heavy silence in the room. Riley started, but he didn't immediately reach for the phone. The ringtone didn't relent, though, and Riley hesitantly picked up the device and hit the Talk button, swallowing a sob as he did so.

"Hello," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Riley, it's Abigail." There was a pause. "I didn't wake you, did I? You don't sound like yourself."

Riley frowned in confusion. _She rarely ever calls my phone._ "It's all good, Abi. What is it?"

"Is Ben with you?"

"No, he left the room about twenty minutes ago to call you and Sadusky." Riley's insides turned to ice. "Abi, what's going on?"

Abigail sounded slightly frantic. "I don't know. We were talking and the call abruptly dropped. I thought it was a random thing, but he didn't call back. I tried to call him back three times and each call went straight to his voice mail. I think something is wrong."

Riley tried to downplay Abi's concern, if only to quell the dread welling up inside him. "Signals drop out all the time. It's nothing to be paranoid about."

"He never lets my calls go to voice mail, if he can help it and if a call should drop, he always gets back to me right away!" Abigail was adamant and the tone made Riley sit up a little straighter. "Right before the call dropped, I swore I heard a muffled voice in the background and what sounded like scuffling, like he might have dropped his phone. Riley, I have a bad feeling."

"Abi, I-." Riley never had time to finish that thought as the door burst open. His eyes widened in fear as he beheld Burton and Louis standing in the doorway.

"What is it? What is that noise?"

"We're in some serious trouble here. Call-." Riley was abruptly cut off as Louis crossed the room in three long strides and snatched the phone from Riley's hand, turning it off. Burton followed, a syringe clutched tightly in his hand.

"I believe we have a bit of unfinished business, Master Landley."


End file.
